


Ties That Bind

by Saidicam29



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 10:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 67,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6420736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saidicam29/pseuds/Saidicam29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise is assigned to assist in search and rescue mission when a diplomatic shuttle goes missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She was in her sleeping cove, having just awakened from a short nap, and was tidying her appearance when the shuttle lurched suddenly. She caught herself against the sleeping bunk, but her cosmetics met a harder fate. Her perfume shattered against the hard titanium-decked floor filling the room with its now pungent odor. The alarm klaxon sounded, causing her to ignore the room's now pungent odor as she left her quarters to explore beyond.

 

"Shields reduced to forty-six point three percent and holding."

 

"Evasive maneuvers."

 

The ship lurched to the right, pushing her hard against the bulkhead. She could hear the engines straining over the tense murmur of the crew's conversation. Her fellow passengers all remained quiet, seemingly calm amid the chaos.

 

"Incoming phaser fire in three...two..."

 

She grabbed hold of a nearby chair as the shuttle again bucked violently. The lights went out, the emergency lighting immediately taking effect, but they offered little illumination in the now smoke-filled interior. Struggling to catch her breath, she saw a crewman rush past her with a box of weapons, distributing them amongst the shuttle's crew.

 

"Shields down to zero percent; another hit and we will be destroyed."

 

"Computers are automatically repeating our distress signal on all Federation frequencies."

 

"Sensors indicate they are initiating their transporters – we are being boarded!"

 

One of the passengers jumped from his seat, commandeered a weapon and took her by the arm. "T'sai, I must insist you return to the back room at once. Do not show yourself under any circumstances."

 

"What's going on?"

 

"I do not know the particulars." He dragged her back down to her room, locking them both in her quarters while he watched and listened at the door expectedly, his weapon at the ready. 

 

She sat on the bed, numbly listening for any signs indicating the activities outside, but she knew her own hearing was too limited to be much help. Finally, there was noise, some cries of pain, and the sound of weapons discharging. She jumped up, her hand covering her mouth to mute her cry. There was a small explosion at the door causing it to burst apart, throwing the room's occupants to the floor. She fell hard, the back of her head slamming against the hard edge of the sleeping rack. Her world spun, nausea momentarily overwhelming her, allowing her only enough strength to sit up and rest against the bunk. She instinctively placed her hand against the throbbing wound on her head then pulled back to find her fingers wet with her blood. She was surrounded by rancid smoke, burnt circuits, and burnt flesh, and could only hear her companion fire his phaser at the unseen enemy. There was a scuffle, some deep grunts and then a hand reached for her through the darkness...

 

~~**~~

 

Captain Kirk blindly signed his name to yet another requisition form while he smiled flirtatiously at his new yeoman, his eyes boldly wandering the length of her curvaceous form. He handed the padd back, eyes sparkling with silent invitation. Her eyes widened slightly, her lips pulling together in a thin line of disapproval as she curtly took the device and spun around to leave the bridge and carry on her duties. 'Nuts,' Kirk thought. He leaned back in his command chair and sighed deeply. 'Looks like I'll have to ask Spock to switch yeomen with me...again.' Spinning the chair around he looked at the Vulcan in question, who was sitting quietly at his science station, studiously bent over his console working on whatever project that currently held his interest. Moving on, his eyes fell upon Lieutenant Uhura as she arched her back, stretched, and attempted to work the tightness of her neck out. "Anything interesting out there, Uhura? Orders, news feed...gossip?"

 

The Bantu woman turned around, smiling as she removed her communication's earpiece. "No, sir, nothing unusual. 'All's quiet on the western front', as they say."

 

"We prefer to call that 'starboard', Lieutenant." Spock's deep timbre drew the attention of the couple, the slight lift of his brow indicating his attempt at humor. 

 

Uhura chuckled, appreciating his intent, if not the effect. "Of course, Mr. Spock." Shaking her head she turned back to her station.

 

Taking advantage of his first officer's momentary respite from his work, Kirk stepped up onto the science station, leaning casually against the guardrail. Spock watched him expectedly. "I hate slow spells."

 

"I have noticed, Captain."

 

"You never did say what you did while we were at Star Base Twelve. I suppose you stayed onboard the whole time, per your usual?" Kirk crossed his arms casually across his chest.

 

"Negative. I spent four point eight three hours of my accumulated leave time on Star Base Twelve." Spock said no more. He saw the light of curiosity in his friend's eyes, and knew he'd be unable to resist the temptation to ask more.

 

"No kidding!" Kirk leaned a little closer to the Vulcan, lowering his voice to prevent the other bridge crew from overhearing their conversation. "McCoy said he saw you down there, but from his story I thought maybe he was little in his cups that night."

 

"A logical conclusion based on my own previous leave experiences with the doctor," Spock quipped.

 

Kirk ignored him, more interested in verifying the rest of McCoy's tale. "He also said he saw you exiting a rather expensive female boutique, bags in hand."

 

Spock resisted the urge to sigh, instead crossed his own arms as his only display of annoyance. They say gossip on star ships travels at warp speed. Apparently the same held true for star bases. "That would also be correct, Captain."

 

"Really?" Kirk moved from his position on the rail to lean on the console directly beside the Vulcan. Jim Kirk could hardly contain himself. Spock courting a woman? "Well?" he asked impatiently.

 

Spock head tilted slightly to the left. "Well what, Captain?"

 

"Come on Spock," he implored, squatting down to bring him face to face with his friend. He lowered his voice to a whisper, knowing the Vulcan would have no trouble hearing him. "I tell you about the women in my life. Do I know her?"

 

"Certainly. In fact you have spent a considerable amount of time in her presence."

 

"I have?" he asked. His mind was reeling through the possibilities. Spock rarely spent much time with him on shore leaves, and when he did he was always alone. Perhaps this was why! But if he'd never seen this woman during their leaves, then that must mean...it's someone on the ship! Kirk eyes darted to Spock, who was watching him with patient curiosity. 'Spock was seeing one of his subordinates!' Kirk thought gleefully. "So...who is it? No, let me guess! Let's see...Lieutenant Richards? No, I just saw her with that new engineer in the rec hall last night."

 

"Captain..."

 

"What about that cute little tech your department picked up when we docked at Star Base Nine a few months ago? What's her name? She's kinda ditzy but has a chest to kill for."

 

"Captain!" Spock indignant tone was lost on his superior.

 

"No! Chapel! It's Chapel, isn't it?"

 

"I find this discussion quite inappropriate."

 

Kirk went on, musing out loud and completely unaware of the interruptions. "That makes sense...she's tall, quiet, brainy. She's got nice legs, and she's used to that whole patient confidentiality thing so she probably knows how to keep her mouth shut. She's was definitely interested too, so no challenge there."

 

"It's my mother!" Spock whispered sharply, finally getting his superior's attention.

 

"What?" Jim asked blankly.

 

"The woman I purchased the items for is my mother. I bought her a supply of the perfume she uses, as well as some scented candles and lotions she prefers. These items are not easy to find on Vulcan, so I pick them up for her when I can."

 

Kirk stood up and looked at his science officer meekly. "Oh. That's...sweet." He cleared his throat nervously. "So you're not involved with anyone on the ship then."

 

Spock's expression hardened. "Certainly not, at least not in the manner in which I believe you are implying. Even if I were inclined to seek female companionship at this time, as second in command it would be improper for me to have a liaison with a member of the crew, would it not?"

 

Kirk blushed. "Yes, of course, Mr. Spock."

 

Taking pity on his human cohort, Spock allowed his expression to relax. "I noticed you returned to the ship earlier than required. Did your leave fail to live up to your expectations?"

 

"Nah, it was fine," Kirk replied, relieved to be on a different subject. "I just decided to beat the rush back. You should go with me next time; they have a live theatre there that wasn't bad."

 

"Indeed? I will certainly take that into consideration."

 

"Captain," Uhura interrupted, her sharp tone indicating something was definitely afoot. "We have received a priority message from Starfleet." She spun around to face her superiors. "It's encoded, sir."

 

"Decode that message, Lieutenant, and read it back to me." Jim Kirk stood tall, his hands clasped firmly behind his back and his body stiff, already preparing himself to take action. He could hear the computer's clicking noise as it began to decode, and almost as fast, Uhura began repeating the message.

 

"We are being rerouted to the Debrune system to assist in a search and rescue effort."

 

"That's near the Neutral Zone," Kirk muttered thoughtfully.

 

"They are receiving automated distress signals from a Vulcan diplomatic shuttle that was enroute to a meeting on Calder. All attempts to establish contact with the shuttle have failed."

 

Kirk noticed Spock head shoot up at this news. "Do we know who was on board, Uhura?" he asked softly.

 

She held up a dainty finger, a mutinous gesture for him to shut up, but he knew she was no doubt decoding the message into Standard faster than the computer and needed to concentrate. "It was Ambassador Sarek's shuttle..."

 

Kirk drew in a sharp breath and looked at his First Officer, whose own breathing was suspended.

 

"No, wait. The ambassador himself was not on board. He is currently on the scout ship Carolina which is already enroute to the shuttle's last known coordinates."

 

Jim watched Spock take a full breath then turn to his console and begin working. "Relay those coordinates to my station, Lieutenant," Spock ordered.

 

Uhura mutely pressed the controls to fulfill that order as she continued to listen to the clicks and whines echoing from the computer. "No further information is known. There is a roster of the shuttle's occupants...we're looking for a total of five Vulcan males, two Vulcan females, and one--" she gasped audibly, "human female." Uhura turned in her seat, sympathy pooling in her deep brown eyes as she gazed at the First Officer. "It's the ambassador's wife," she said gently.

 

Kirk's eyes widened and he turned quickly to Spock. He saw the Vulcan's eyes close, although his expression remained frozen. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but knew not what to say. His instinct was to offer sympathy, but he knew from past experience that Spock generally rejected such gestures. "Spock..." he said simply, waiting to see what the Vulcan would do.

 

Spock slowly opened his eyes, but remained staring at the console in front of him. "Course plotted and relayed to navigation, Captain. ETA is twenty four point six hours at warp six."

 

"Course plotted, Keptin," Chekov confirmed.

 

Kirk slowly looked from Spock to the navigation stations, where Sulu and Chekov were watching him, awaiting their orders. "Take us out of here, gentlemen, warp factor six – no, make that warp eight."

 

"Yes, sir!" Sulu exclaimed, turning back to his station and taking the ship into high warp.

 

Kirk looked back at Spock, who was now watching him as well. The Vulcan bowed to him, his appreciation evident. "You know," Jim said, "chances are it's nothing. They probably lost power... are floating around out there with no communications... It happens all the time with these shuttles."

 

Spock nodded. "That is one possibility." He looked into Kirk's eyes, then quickly looked away, his features frozen and eyes staring ahead unseeingly. 

 

Clearing his throat, Kirk made his voice as authoritative as possible. "Man those long-range scanners, Commander. I want to know everything that's around us."

 

"Aye, sir." Spock turned back to his station, grateful to keep his mind focused elsewhere.

 

~~**~~

 

"The Carolina has just entered our scanning range, Captain."

 

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. Uhura, hail the Carolina as soon as they're within range. Sulu, slow us down to match the Carolina's speed as soon as we catch up." Jim left his command chair to stand beside his second-in-command. "It won't be much longer now, Spock."

 

Spock looked briefly at his captain then resumed his vigil over the scanners. He'd been there for three shifts straight – not permitted by regulations, ordinarily – but Kirk allowed it, knowing that even if he ordered the Vulcan off the bridge he'd only tap into the ship's system from his quarters. Besides, he rather suspected working obsessively might be cathartic for the Vulcan constitution.

 

"The Carolina is answering our hail, sir. A Captain Jefferson is in command."

 

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Put it on screen." Kirk returned to his command chair, tugging his tunic into place and obtaining an authoritative pose in his chair. The blanket of space dissolved to reveal the bridge of the smaller scout ship. Her captain was also in his chair -- a man younger then Kirk and presumably less experienced, and bored, by the look of him. When he saw Kirk appear on his screen he straightened up sharply, a spark of eagerness quickly crossed his face.

 

"Captain Kirk, it's an honor to meet you, sir. I'm looking forward to assisting the Enterprise in any way I can."

 

"Thank you, Captain. I'm rather hoping there won't be anything to assist us with, quite frankly." He paused, measuring Jefferson carefully. "Have your sensors picked up anything yet?"

 

"Our sensors? No, routine scans have picked up no abnormalities, but then we aren't even at the coordinates yet." He smiled disarmingly.

 

"Captain Jefferson," a quiet voice spoke from the scout ship's communications station, "Ambassador Sarek is contacting the bridge again, sir. Now he insists he be transported to the Enterprise immediately." 

 

"How could he possibly know we're in contact with..." He paused, taking a moment to collect himself then looked back at the view screen apologetically. "We have the Vulcan ambassador with us, Captain, and he's rather—persistent."

 

Kirk struggled to suppress his grin. "I know the type." He glanced furtively at Spock who raised an eyebrow at the subtle insult. Kirk cleared his throat and focused on the view screen. "We'd be honored to have him visit."

 

The look of relief on the younger man's face was unmistakable. "He'll be right over." 

 

Kirk signaled for Uhura to end the connection. The hiss of the turbo doors opening caused Kirk to glance behind him as Dr. McCoy strode onto the bridge. He walked straight to the captain's chair with no preamble. "Any word yet?"

 

"No, nothing yet, Bones."

 

The doctor nodded, glancing briefly at the Vulcan over his shoulder then back at Kirk. "How's he doing?" he whispered, gesturing briefly in Spock's direction.

 

"No change there, either."

 

"Uh-huh." McCoy nodded expectedly, chewing his bottom lip gently. "Well," he raised his voice back to normal levels, "we've double checked our emergency supplies, my staff is alert and ready, and I've planned for Vulcan casualties as best I can."

 

"Very good, Doctor. Hopefully none of that will be necessary."

 

"Amen to that, Jim." He again glanced worriedly at Spock's back.

 

"Captain, the transporter room reports the Carolina has one passenger ready to be beamed over." Uhura's fingers glided over her controls effortlessly as she monitored both the intra-ship and subspace frequencies.

 

"That was fast. Notify the transporter room, Lieutenant. Tell them I'm on my way." He rose from his chair and climbed the steps to the outer ring of the bridge.

 

"We have a guest?" McCoy asked, following closely behind Kirk.

 

"We sure do, Bones." Jim looked at Spock. "Care to greet your father with me, Mr. Spock?"

 

"Yes, Captain." Spock rose from chair, grabbing a few discs from his station as he went.

 

"Ah, I should have known." McCoy stood back to allow Jim and Spock to precede him into the turbolift. "I'm rather looking forward to seeing Sarek again, to be honest, although I sure wish it could be under different circumstances."

 

As the lift's doors closed Spock soberly answered. "I am sure he would agree, Doctor."

 

~~**~~

 

The Enterprise officers entered the transporter room and automatically lined up according to rank. Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott was at the controls with a young ensign who – upon seeing his senior officers all present to watch his first live transport – was decidedly more nervous now than he was just a few moments before.

 

"Whenever you're ready, Scotty," Kirk said.

 

"Aye Cap'n." He turned to the ensign beside him. "A'right laddie. Bring the ambassador aboard."

 

"Ambassador, sir?" A film of sweat broke out across the young man's brow. That, at least, explained the presence of the officers, but it didn't do diddly to calm his nerves.

 

"Aye, George, now don'na be lettin' his title get to ya. His job makes no difference a'tall to the process." Scotty watched as the ensign slowly calibrated the machine upon recognizing the species of the target. Unable to help himself, Scotty casually muttered, "Nor the fact that's he's Mister Spock's da, mind you."

 

Scotty heard a soft chuckle from his superiors and quickly gave them a wink before turning back to the ensign – whose pale face was staring at him in horror. "Eyes on the job, lad," he reprimanded.

 

"Y-yes, sir." He adjusted the settings some more, then readjusted them again – just to make sure. "P-prepared to energize, sir."

 

"Energize, Ensign," Kirk ordered.

 

Hands shaking, Ensign George Mara slowly lifted the lever, filling the room with the familiar whine of the transporter. A vague form appeared on one of the transporter's pads, then with a final push of the lever the form solidified to reveal the formidable figure of Sarek of Vulcan. Seeing that all the parts were present -- and in the correct position -- the ensign let out an audible sigh of relief, smiling at Mr. Scott's congratulatory pat on the back.

 

All of this went unnoticed by the statesman. As soon as Sarek materialized his eyes sought and locked with those of his son. For a long moment they stared, each silently assessing the other's wellbeing. With a deep breath, Sarek quickly stepped off the pad.

 

"Welcome aboard, Ambassador," Kirk greeted. "We're honored by your--"

 

Sarek ignored the human and addressed Spock. "I want long range scans conducted, specifically I want any traces of ionic or plasma particles found in unusual clustered quantities charted and examined. If the shuttle has been attacked then the perpetrators may have passed this way, and the trail their engines left behind could still be detected, but time is of the essence."

 

"Such scans are already being conducted," Spock affirmed and held out the discs he had brought with him from the bridge. "My results so far."

 

Sarek stared at the discs blankly, then slowly took them in his hand. "Yes, of course."

 

"We'll provide you with whatever amenities we can, Ambassador. Just ask."

 

Sarek looked at the captain for the first time. "My aide is awaiting transport with our belongings. I want him beamed over immediately and shown to my quarters." He turned slightly to focus on McCoy. "I also have one of the embassy's healers in attendance to treat any Vulcan casualties. If you could familiarize her with your facilities…"

 

"I'd be honored to, sir." McCoy bowed his head respectfully.

 

"If you'd follow me, Ambassador, I'll show you to your quarters so you can refresh yourself. Then Spock can brief you on his—"

 

"An illogical waste of time, Captain. Spock, attend." Sarek spun on his heel and exited the room in a flurry of swirling robes, and with his son in tow.

 

Jim watched them leave, dumbfounded. "What just happened?" he asked McCoy.

 

"I think you've just witnessed what a couple of heart-sick Vulcans look like."

 

Kirk rubbed his hand over his face tiredly. "I have a feeling Sarek's going to be a handful – again." He turned to the transporter engineers. "Scotty, bring the ambassador's people over and show them to their quarters."

 

"Aye, sir."

 

"Come on, Bones." They headed out the door.

 

**~~**

 

Kirk woke to the sound of birds chirping, the setting he programmed his computer to wake him with, reminding him of early Iowa mornings at his parents’ house. He'd had a good, full-night's sleep, which meant they'd discovered nothing new in regards to the ambassador's lost shuttle. Completing his morning grooming, he quickly accessed the computer to verify that Spock was in the auxiliary computer room, where he and his father had been maintaining a vigil at the scanners and computer banks. They had started on the bridge, at Spock's station, but having the ambassador right there was a bit of a distraction for the rest of the bridge. Then when Sarek's aide began popping in to constantly check their progress and provide his own input, it became a little too crowded for Jim's taste. So, he had suggested to Spock that the C deck auxiliary rooms might be more accommodating for them. Spock didn't argue, and the Vulcans have pretty much kept themselves sequestered ever since.

 

He was just about to leave his quarters when McCoy's voice came through the intercom. Turning the vid screen on, Kirk was surprised at McCoy's ruffled appearance. "What has the good doctor upset this early in the morning?"

 

"Hrmpf. I'll give you four guesses, and they all have copper-based blood." McCoy's voice softened considerably. "Any news yet?"

 

"No, not yet. I was about to head down to the auxiliary room to see if I could get Spock and his father to give me an update over breakfast."

 

"Ha! Fat chance of that. I was going to insist they take a break to eat this morning. They’ve hardly eaten or slept at all since word of the shuttle's disappearance came through. Then T'Pher, the healer Sarek brought onboard, informs me she has already provided them with nutrient tablets. Apparently it's illogical to postpone their progress for something as trivial as eating!" McCoy let out a loud sigh, and Kirk could tell that he was bouncing on his heels in agitation. 

 

"Well, Bones," Kirk began gently, "you didn't really expect anything else, did you? We've seen Spock do this hundreds of times, over projects with a lot less…personal interest." McCoy nodded in begrudged agreement. Kirk sighed loudly. "Of course, I suppose we can't have someone interfering with our CMO's protocol either. You could always ban her from the sickbay if she's that much trouble."

 

"Ban her?" McCoy asked, shocked. "I didn't say she was causing trouble. Sure, she hasn't shown any sort of satisfaction or appreciation for our facility, and she did give our first officer nutrient tablets with neither my knowledge nor consent, but…"

 

"Well, as long as she isn't any trouble," Kirk teased. "Doctor, you aren't going sweet on that girl, are you?"

 

"Me? Falling for a Vulcan?" McCoy laughed derisively. "You gotta be insane; or I'd hafta' be!"

 

Kirk grinned. "Alright, Bones, I get the picture. It won't last much longer. We're almost to the shuttle's last coordinates, so we should be finding them soon."

 

Reference to the shuttle wiped all evidence of their earlier humor from the doctor's face. "Yeah, if there's anything left to find."

 

"Bones…" Kirk was stunned by his friend's morbid comment.

 

"Jim," McCoy chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Do you think we know everything there is to know about this shuttle's disappearance?"

 

"Yes, of course we do." Kirk noticed McCoy's worrisome look. "I think we do. Have you heard something to make you think otherwise?"

 

"No, no. Not really. It's just… T'Pher's been running around here like she's expectin' a war zone, and they're all acting so tense and secretive. Every now and then they look around, and when they see they're not alone they start speakin' to each other in Vulcan."

 

Kirk shrugged it off. "They're Vulcans, Bones. I'm sure they're just making sure to cover all the bases, expecting the worst so they'll be prepared."

 

"Yeah… maybe…"

 

"At any rate, I think it's time for a little meeting with my second-in-command."

 

~~**~~

 

Kirk entered the auxiliary room to see Spock and Sarek's aide on opposing sides of the ambassador's chair, squatting by his side attending him in a concerned manner. He rushed over to help, but upon hearing him enter Spock stood to face him, effectively blocking his view of the ambassador.

 

"Captain," Spock greeted him warily.

 

"What happened?" Kirk attempted to look around his first officer, but Sarek's chair was now turned away from them.

 

Spock glanced slightly in his father's direction before focusing on the captain. "Nothing, Captain. My father was feeling… unwell."

 

"Well let's get him to sickbay then." Kirk started to move around Spock, but the Vulcan stepped in front of him.

 

"Unnecessary, sir. He is recovered now."

 

Kirk looked from Spock to the other Vulcans suspiciously, his conversation with McCoy fresh in his mind. "I need to speak with you now, Commander. Alone." Kirk walked to a corner on the opposite side of the room. Spock immediately followed, moving past Kirk before turning to face him, keeping Kirk’s back toward his father, his hands locked behind his back as he remained "at attention". "Report."

 

"We have charted several plasma clusters that could potentially be spacecraft residue; however, there are not enough to prove a definite trail at this time. There is no other evidence of vessels in this region, including the shuttle. Communications is maintaining their attempt to reach them with no success thus far." He stared straight ahead, his body as rigid as his answers.

 

"And have you been keeping navigation updated on the course we need to maintain to catch up with a drifting shuttle?"

 

"I…" Spock hesitated, looking briefly uncomfortable before composing himself, "was, sir."

 

"But you're not now?" Spock shook his head gently. "Why not?"

 

"We no longer believe that a likely possibility."

 

"You don't?" Kirk's surprise was evident. "Based on what, Mr. Spock?"

 

Spock pressed his lips together grimly. "We have… evidence."

 

"What evidence? Why haven't I been made aware of this? Spock," Kirk shook his head in disbelief, "what the hell is going on around here?"

 

"Jim," Spock pleaded with his friend, his voice dropping to a bare whisper. "To explain I would have to reveal something very… private."

 

"You've shared private things with me before."

 

"I know." Spock sighed, glancing furtively over Kirk's shoulder at his father. "But this involves Sarek. He confided in me, and I cannot betray his trust."

 

"I can respect that you're the man's son," Kirk also spoke in a whisper, "but you are also my first officer. I'm not asking this out of idle curiosity, Spock; but I need to know everything that affects this mission. Don't forget you have a duty to this ship, Mister!"

 

Spock nodded reluctantly. "Yes, sir; but not here."

 

Kirk turned to see Sarek's aide watching them intently. "All right. Meet me in Briefing Room two in five minutes." At Spock's nod he spun around and left the room.

 

**~~**

 

Kirk paced the length of the small briefing room restlessly. He heard the swoosh of the doors opening and instinctively squared his shoulders. Turning to face Spock, Jim never broke eye contact while he walked over and took a seat at the head of the table, then waited expectedly.

 

Spock took a large step into the room, just enough to permit the sensors to close the doors. "Captain--"

 

"I trust you are prepared to give me a full explanation, Commander."

 

"Yes, Captain," Spock replied humbly.

 

Kirk blew out a deep sigh. "Sit down, Spock." He rubbed his hands tiredly over his face, glancing up when he realized Spock hadn't moved. "That is an order."

 

Spock moved to take the seat nearest to him. He sat silently, taking a few last moments to consider his words.

 

"So, what's this all about?"

 

Spock opened his mouth, hesitated, then began again. "You… recall I once told you about the connection that locks the minds of two Vulcans together so that when… at the proper time, the couple is drawn together."

 

Kirk grimaced at the memory of Spock's pon farr, and his own short 'death'. "I remember. Are you saying that's what was happening to your father?" Kirk wondered how quickly they would be able to get the ambassador to Vulcan, and what would they do with no wife there awaiting him.

 

"No," Spock assured him. "However, this link I spoke of, upon the completion of the marriage, is… deepened… strengthened to form a permanent bond. If the bond is strong enough, the couple can 'feel' each other, even when separated by great distances. My parents have such a bond."

 

Jim took a moment to consider such a thing. "So what exactly are you saying, Spock? That your father is in some sort of telepathic communication with your mother? Does he know what happened, where she is?"

 

"No. The bond does not allow such detailed communication – at least not without some form of physical contact. From what he described, I gather it's more a sense of general being he receives – that she is alive and well."

 

"You gather?" Jim asked. "You don't know?"

 

"Jim," Spock awkwardly reminded him, "I never completed my joining ceremony." He shrugged briefly. "Therefore I have never experienced a full bond."

 

"I--" Kirk smiled sympathetically. "I realize that; but surely at some point in your life you were told what it's like – what to expect?"

 

Spock emphatically shook his head. "We are told only that each bond is unique, and private. What is experienced between bondmates is not to be shared with others. No Vulcan would dare inquire into such a thing."

 

"But Sarek shared," Kirk pointed out, puzzled, "with you and his aide."

 

"Not just an aide, Captain. Soran is my father's closest friend… closer than a friend. We call it k'war'ma'khon. It does not translate well, but the easiest explanation is family by choice. Besides," Spock sat back in his chair, steepling his hands on the table before him, "I expect the only cause for his breach was the severity of the situation." Spock's gaze suddenly locked with his captain's. "It took great trust for him to confide in us, Jim."

 

"It won't leave this room," Kirk vowed.

 

Spock stared into Jim Kirk's eyes for several minutes, testing him, only breaking the contact when he was satisfied with what he saw. "Sarek did admit that he can sense strong emotions my mother’s experiences – elation, or anger; pain or fear. Not the sort of fear she might feel from seeing an a'lazb scurry across the floor, but great fear."

 

"Like if her life were in danger," Kirk supplied, to which Spock nodded. "So I gather Sarek has… felt something to make him believe the shuttle was attacked?"

 

"Yes, twice. The first, while he was completing some negotiations on Zavijava. He became aware of a sense of foreboding. He dismissed it, but then he was filled with fear. It nearly overwhelmed him, but he managed to maintain his composure long enough to complete his meeting, at which time he attempted to make contact with the shuttle. He was unsuccessful, and shortly thereafter the first of the shuttle's distress signals were picked up."

 

"And the second time?" Kirk prompted.

 

Spock looked away, chewing his bottom lip briefly before catching the act and correcting it. He cleared his throat and continued, his eyes fastened on his hands. "A few moments ago, shortly before you came in. Sarek again sensed her fear, then… pain. Enormous pain." Spock's voice had dropped to a whisper, and Kirk thought he detected pallor to the Vulcan's color. "Even he could not contain it. I heard him gasp, and when I looked, he was leaning over, gripping the edge of the console for support."

 

Kirk cleared his throat uncomfortably, knowing he must ask. "Is she dead?"

 

This brought Spock's gaze back to him. "No." Spock's voice had found its normal volume. "At least, he says he can still feel their link, but she is not well."

 

"Bridge to Captain Kirk!"

 

Uhura's voice saved Kirk from deciding on the appropriate response. He pressed a button on the little console at the table. "Kirk here."

 

"We've found the ambassador's shuttle craft. ETA approximately four point eight hours."

 

Kirk let out a deep sigh. "What shape is she in, Uhura?"

 

"She has suffered severe damage, sir. Radiation from the broken debris is causing havoc with our sensors, but it appears she is maintaining nominal life support functions."

 

"Any signs of survivors?"

 

There was a pause, then Chekov's voice came over the intercom. "No, sir; howewer, the radiation could be masking the signals. There's no way to be certain without wisual confirmation."

 

"I see. Then pull a team of four to board her. I want two security, one medical and-" Kirk saw Spock stand to leave, and he held out a hand to stop him. "You will lead the team, Mr. Chekov." He saw Spock eyes widen in surprise and he opened his mouth to object, but he didn't, and Kirk knew he wouldn't – at least until they wouldn't be overheard by their subordinates. 

 

"Aye, sir," came the Russian's puzzled response. No doubt he expected Spock to take the team. No doubt they all did.

 

"Check in as soon as you beam over. Wear environmental suits, in case there's been a leak through the hull. Kirk out." Jim turned off the intercom and stood up, hoping to avoid the deluge he knew was coming.

 

"Captain--"

 

"Chekov can handle this; he's led away teams before."

 

"Only routine missions--"

 

"He's ready. We both know that."

 

"I am the logical choice, Captain. It is a Vulcan ship--"

 

"Knowledge of Vulcans isn't required to check for survivors."

 

"Jim--"

 

"Spock!" Kirk snapped, frustrated at Spock's tenacity, a trait that other times he'd found admirable. He took a deep breath, then started again at a more compassionate volume. "Spock, if your father is wrong – or perhaps worse, if he isn't…" Kirk fumbled for the right words then, with a small shake of his head, gave up. "You don't need to be the one to see it. Stay with your father and wait until the team gives their report." Sensing no further argument, Kirk started to move past Spock to leave the room, but paused, placing a hand on the Vulcan's shoulder. He wasn't surprised to detect no reaction. "Don't make this any harder than it needs to be. There's no logic in that, is there?"

 

Not expecting a reply, and not getting any, Kirk left the briefing room to be immediately hailed by the ambassador as he quickly made his way through the corridor. "He's in there." Kirk jerked a thumb towards the room he just left, answering Sarek before he could even ask the question. "We'll let you know as soon as we find anything, Ambassador." A weary Kirk made his way to the bridge, hoping for the best, but suddenly expecting only the worst.

 

**~~**

 

Kirk listened with half an ear as the routine communications between the bridge and transporter rooms informed him the team had been beamed away. He stared hard at the small craft on his screen, browned and battered, and thought it a miracle the vessel managed to stay together at all. He was so lost in thought that Jim actually started when McCoy appeared at his elbow.

 

"Wow," was all the doctor had to say as he too looked at the view screen, but it said it all. "All hail the Vulcan engineers who put that gem together."

 

"Yeah. Even Scotty's impressed."

 

"I don't suppose this is any indication that those inside are whole as well?"

 

"'Fraid not, Bones." Kirk pulled his eyes off the viewscreen and turned towards the doctor on his right. "If you're here, who's over there?"

 

"M'Benga." Seeing Jim's questioning look, McCoy couldn't help but blush. "I was gonna go, but then T'Pher insisted she should go and we started arguin' about it… M'Benga seemed like a good compromise, you know, since he trained on Vulcan 'n all." McCoy cleared his throat, avoiding the knowing look the captain was giving him. "How did your talk with Spock go?"

 

Kirk shrugged. "About as well as could be expected, I suppose. You know what it's like trying to wade through eons of Vulcan mysticism. I think we've reached an understanding."

 

"You didn't send Spock over there, did ya?"

 

"Of course not, but it wasn't easy. Spock naturally thought he should go. I sent Chekov in his place."

 

Just then the bridge doors opened, and Kirk was flabbergasted to see that very Russian take Spock's place at the science station. "What the hell are you doing here?"

 

Pavel spun around, watching the captain jump from his seat to stand on the deck below him. He quickly glanced around in hopes there was someone next to him he might be speaking too. "Sir?"

 

"Why aren't you with the away team?"

 

"I was, Keptin, but then Mr. Spock said there was a change…" Chekov trailed off, seeing the rage flash across the captain's face and not wishing to get Spock into any more trouble than he apparently was.

 

Kirk nodded curtly then turned on his heel and walked back to McCoy. "He wouldn't," he whispered fiercely.

 

"He would."

 

Kirk shook his head decisively. "He didn't."

 

"Captain," Uhura's voice interrupted. "Mister Spock just checked in from the Vulcan shuttlecraft."

 

"He did." McCoy sighed as he and the captain turned their attention to the communications officer. 

 

"He reports the ship is intact, and has basic maneuvering capabilities." She paused, taking a deep breath. "There are no survivors, sir."

 

"Scotty," Kirk barked slightly sharper than he had intended. "Can we bring that ship aboard?"

 

"Aye, sir. If Mr. Spock can steer, we can do the pullin'."

 

"Then bring her in." He turned back to Uhura as he climbed the steps to leave the bridge. "And tell Spock I want to see him immediately in my quarters."

 

Kirk entered the turbo-lift followed immediately by the doctor. He didn't say a word as he activated the lift.

 

"Aren't you going down to the shuttle?" McCoy asked upon seeing Kirk take the lift away from the docking deck.

 

"No," he answered shortly. "Not until I get a few things off my chest. I don't think I want to risk doing it in front of the crew." The lift came to a stop and Kirk strode out and down the corridor without a backwards glance. 

 

McCoy moved over to take the controls, preventing the doors from closing. "Jim," he called out, waiting patiently for the captain to turn around. "Don't forget the man just lost his mother." Jim Kirk stared back for a moment, then silently turned and walked away.

 

**~~**

 

It was some time before Spock finally dragged himself to the captain's quarters. He waited wearily outside; only sheer will preventing his fatigue from showing in his stance. He heard Jim's curt reply, then the doors opened and Spock stepped inside.

 

"I could have you court-marshaled for this!"

 

Spock looked at his captain, his friend, standing shirtless in the doorway to his sleeping cove, toweling the dampness from his hair. The padded gloves left on the end of the bed indicated the captain had been hitting the bag he kept hanging in the corner of his "bedroom" – a clear indication of his agitation. "Over a misunderstanding, sir?"

 

Kirk stopped drying to stare, bewildered, at his first officer. "Was there something unclear about my order placing Mr. Chekov in charge of the away team, Mr. Spock?" Kirk turned away to retrieve a new shirt.

 

"No, sir," Spock admitted. "However, your reason for choosing Mr. Chekov over me was a concern that I should somehow be emotionally damaged by seeing my mother in an impaired state. A human failing, I assure you. Since such concern is unwarranted in my case I assumed that you, logically, would prefer I lead the away team. It seems I was in error."

 

Kirk leaned against the doorjamb, a humorless smile played upon his lips. "You don't actually expect me to buy that?"

 

Spock glanced at him sharply, then sighed, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug as he moved to sit heavily in the chair facing Jim's desk. "I believe my service record will support that scenario more than the one you are suggesting."

 

The smile faded from Jim Kirk's face, and he finally noticed the sag to Spock's shoulders, the lines that were showing on his face, and the fact that his friend didn't seem to make the effort to hide this, or worse, was unable to. "Well," Jim moved away from his sleeping area to grab two glasses and a flask of brandy. "I guess you've got me there." He filled both glasses and placed one on the desk before Spock, although he didn't expect the Vulcan would drink it. He sat in his own chair, taking a sip of the fiery liquid. "Listen, Spock, about your mother…"

 

"She's gone, Jim."

 

Kirk almost didn't hear the soft whisper, but the expression on Spock's face -- the lost, wounded look that briefly crossed his features when he uttered the words -- was impossible to miss. "I know," Jim sighed heavily. "I lost a parent once too; my father, about ten years ago while he was on a mission for Starfleet. It's hard, Spock, but it'll get better… in time."

 

Spock nodded, then frowned in confusion. "Your father died in an avalanche on Uclipses 4, did he not? All bodies were recovered."

 

"That's right." Jim noticed Spock's puzzlement. "Granted, our situations aren't exactly the same. I knew the circumstances surrounding my father's death; but this isn't over, Spock. We'll find out what happened to that shuttle and who's responsible."

 

"Jim," Spock shook his head. "You misunderstand. My mother isn't dead; she's gone… missing from the shuttle."

 

"Missing?" Kirk parroted. "When Uhura reported you said no survivors I thought--"

 

"There were no survivors onboard, Captain."

 

"Gone…" Jim Kirk sat back in his chair, speechless. "Well, this is good news, really. They wouldn't have taken her if she were severely injured, right? Now we just need to find where they went and get her back!"

 

"Jim," Spock closed his eyes tiredly. "Do you know the probability of us ever finding my mother alive?"

 

"No," Jim slapped his palm against the surface of his desk. "And I don't want to know. We've beaten the odds before. We'll do it again."

 

"How? There was nothing on the shuttle of value, no clues to the perpetrators identity, nothing to suggest their motives."

 

"What about those plasma clusters? They led us here, right?"

 

Spock crossed his arms across his chest. "Not necessarily. We have found sporadic plasma clusters along the path we have taken, but we still cannot be certain it's an actual vessel trail rather than random clusters."

 

"But it's a start. Let's see where they take us."

 

"Jim, they could be leading us entirely in the wrong direction."

 

"Or they might lead us right to her."

 

Spock took a deep breath, then nodded hesitantly. The whine of the captain's intercom drew both men's attention. 

 

"Kirk here."

 

"Jim! You won't believe this, but we've just had a change to our casualty list."

 

"I know, Bones. I'm talking to Spock now."

 

"Uh-uh, I'm not talking about Mrs. Sarek."

 

Jim and Spock glanced at each other over the desk, nonplussed. "Care to elaborate on that, Doctor?"

 

"One of the male Vulcans on the shuttle is alive, barely, but alive."

 

Spock shot up straight in his chair. "Which one, Doctor?"

 

"Uh… he was found in the back of the shuttle. Talik is what they're callin' him. I've never seen anything quite like it. Life signs so low the mediscan didn't even register it; he barely registers on the biobed. T'Pher found him when she insisted on checkin' each casualty herself… it's a good thing she did."

 

"Will he make it?" Kirk licked his lips anxiously.

 

"I dunno, Jim. I would say it's doubtful, but T'Pher is still checkin' him over. She's involved in some sort of mind technique with him now."

 

"We'll be right there." Kirk jumped from his seat trailing several seconds behind his first officer out the door.

 

**~~**

 

T'Pher opened her eyes, removing her hands from the face of her patient. "Nothing. He is locked deep within himself, even I cannot reach him."

 

T'Pher's soft voice slowly reached the recesses of Sarek's mind. "I do not understand." Sarek took a deep breath from where he stood at the end of the biobed, having been unaware he had failed to do so throughout much of the exam. "You stated that his injuries were minor; why the trance?" 

 

"Talik has achieved foshin'ilk. He must have experienced some form of extreme trauma to force him into such a state."

 

"What's foshin…" McCoy stumbled over the alien term.

 

"Foshin'ilk, Doctor," T'Pher continued. "A state where the mind is completely shielded from any outside stimulation and the body is shut down for preservation. It is an advanced defensive technique, dating back to pre-Reform times, and one many Vulcans cannot master. Very few even attempt it. I am impressed by Talik's abilities… assuming he is able to recover." T'Pher adjusted the cover over Talik and quietly gave instructions to the orderlies before moving to the end of the bed near Sarek.

 

"How long before we know?" Soran asked from his position near the doorway, where Kirk and Spock had just entered.

 

"Impossible to estimate with any degree of certainty. Under usual circumstances, if the Vulcan maintains adequate control over the process, there remains an awareness of the body's condition. Chemical messages from the body to the brain that indicate an improvement in circumstances can cause the Vulcan to release himself from the trance. Otherwise, if he is too deep to recognize the signals, once the body's resources are depleted he would be forced to attempt recovery or face death. This can take a couple of weeks, if his system is efficient. If his needs are being met through medical interference he could remain like this indefinitely."

 

"What do ya mean if he's too deep?" McCoy asked.

 

"This is a very difficult technique. If not done properly, the Vulcan can close himself so tight that he cannot receive even his own subtle internal messages. It is…" She hesitated, considering her words carefully. "I am unsure if there is a human equivalent to such a condition. It is more than what Terrans refer to as coma, but less then death. Once he reaches a fatal condition his body will enter an emergency state where there are surges of certain chemicals – a process that occurs when the body is confronted with physical stress as a final attempt to survive."

 

"Like an adrenaline rush, or what we term a 'fight or flight' process?" McCoy inquired.

 

T'Pher bowed her head respectfully. "As you say, Doctor. However, it may be impossible for him to reverse the technique at that point, if he is even aware of his condition."

 

"Perhaps you should make another attempt," Sarek suggested tensely, his knuckles whitened beneath the edge of his robe's sleeves where his hands had been tightly clenched since Talik was discovered.

 

"Illogical, Ambassador." T'Pher's voice remained steady. Always soft, always calm. That was one thing that always annoyed Amanda about Vulcans.

 

"He is the only one who can tell us what happened to the shuttle--"

 

"And your wife," she finished for him. "I am aware of the circumstances, S'haile; but Talik's shields are formidable. There is nothing more to be done at this time."

 

Sarek stared at the still form of his aide and short-term associate. He knew little of him, only that he had been on his staff for 8.36 Standard months, and his work had always been exemplary. Sarek experienced a moment of guilt that he had not taken the time to get to know this man better; but he quickly pushed it aside as illogical. He certainly couldn't know everything about all his staff, and regretting what cannot be changed is a wasteful use of time and energy. A part of him also experienced some guilt over the desire to use this man in any way necessary to get to Amanda, but he pushed that aside also. Vulcan biology is undeniable.

 

"I suggest the logical approach is to withhold any medical assistance until Talik recovers." 

 

Kirk glanced sharply at Spock, then at the men before him who were nodding in agreement. 

 

"Yes, of course," T'Pher concurred, causing Jim to turn so fast he felt his neck crack. "That will be my first attempt--"

 

"No way in hell… Madam," Doctor McCoy added, almost as an afterthought. "No one starves in my sickbay. This is one point on which I will not compromise."

 

"However," T'Pher continued, ignoring McCoy's protest, "at the first indication of decline I will put Talik on complete medical support. It is better we keep him in this condition until we reach Vulcan then risk his inability to recover. There are healers much stronger than I who might be able to help him."

 

"I still think it's crazy! Why risk it at all? Let's just high-tail it back to Vulcan an' let 'em open him there?"

 

T'Pher took a deep breath, fortifying herself for the upcoming confrontation with the Terran. As a Vulcan healer, even one assigned to the embassy on Terra, she had relatively few encounters with non-Vulcans, even fewer with Terran healers. This one was loud, and abrasive; mentally as well as verbally. Oh, how she preferred the dark one to him. She glanced around quickly, but the one called M'Benga was nowhere in sight. Strengthening her own shields, she approached McCoy hoping she might yet achieve a calm, rational discussion with the doctor. 

 

Sarek took this opportunity to leave the room. He paused in the ante-room, knowing Soran and Spock would be following shortly. And they did. 

 

"All is not lost," Soran quickly assured him.

 

"Amanda is lost," Sarek reminded him, "possibly forever."

 

"While there's life, there's hope," Spock blurted out one of his mother's favorite quotes; written by a human comedy writer in ancient Earth times. Realizing Sarek would know the origin, Spock looked away uncomfortably.

 

"Indeed," Sarek said kindly, his eyes softening while he watched his son – their son. "However, how long do you think there will be life for Amanda, Spock? Her usefulness – for whatever purpose she was taken – is unlikely to last long. Time is what Talik requires to recover, but it is the one thing your mother does not have."

 

**~~**

 

Sarek leaned back in the unyielding Starfleet regulation chair, fatigue threatening to overtake him. It had been 24.8 hours since the shuttle had been recovered, cleaned out and gone through, but they still were no closer to knowing Amanda's whereabouts or who might be responsible. The marks left on the shuttle had come from a common weapons system, one used by a multitude of races – Federation and non-Federation alike. All they had left were these plasma clusters, the sparse, fading trail they had of them – which might not be a trail at all.

 

Glancing at the console before him, Sarek's eyes fell upon Amanda's ring, given to him earlier with the rest of her effects. It was purchased for their Earth wedding ceremony, despite Amanda’s insistence she was above such traditional trappings. Sarek had insisted they follow protocol. Since that day she cared for it, polished it, and wore it consistently. The fact that she was not wearing it at the time of her abduction indicated to him that she was likely in her quarters completing her ablutions. It was the only time he knew her to remove it.

 

Sarek took the ring in his hand, slowly turning it, mesmerized as the light glinted off the golden metal. His thoughts turned inward, to a memory from long ago…

 

Sarek lay in their bed, on his back, his left arm bent casually beneath his head while he watched his wife conclude her nightly routine. Her hair was down, having just been brushed until it shimmered in the soft light of her vanity lamp. Amanda now removed her earrings, then her necklace, and finally her ring, placing them gingerly on the tabletop. She reached for one of her bottles, pouring a small amount of sweet-smelling lotion onto her fingers, which she rubbed carefully onto her face. Taking more lotion, she applied this along both arms, rubbing the excess into her hands, then along the front of her neck and across her clavicle until, finally, she crossed her arms over her chest to apply lotion to both shoulders simultaneously. 

 

Glancing up, Amanda caught Sarek's gaze in the mirror. "What?" She smiled self-consciously, her cheeks darkening even though he had not said a word. "It makes my skin soft." Her voice remained low, although defensiveness did color it. When he still said nothing, Amanda turned off the lamp and came to bed, only a sliver of T'Kuht's red hue to illuminate her way. She sat beside him, lifting Sarek's free hand to her face and rubbed it gently across her cheek. "See?"

 

Sarek nodded, rubbing his fingers across her cheek, then following the trail down her neck and across to caress her shoulder. It was, indeed, soft. His fingers absently drew invisible circles on her skin, enjoying the feel of her, his eyes seeking hers. Their gazes locked, permission silently asked and just as mutely granted. Sarek's hand moved lower to caress even softer flesh…

 

Sarek withdrew from his reverie, startled to see his son standing just a few feet away. "Spock," Sarek hastily greeted him, straightening in his chair and slipping Amanda's ring onto his little finger.

 

"Forgive me," Spock bowed slightly, but his concerned gaze did not leave his father. "I did not wish to interrupt in case…" He stepped closer. "Has there been any change?"

 

"No." Sarek busied himself at the console.

 

Spock nodded thoughtfully. "I have checked, and our current course will lead us directly to the Neutral Zone. If the plasma clusters continue to be found, it could be a good indication we are on their trail."

 

"Or it could all be coincidence."

 

Spock swallowed hard. "True, but the Neutral Zone would be a logical refuge for a ship seeking to escape Federation prosecution."

 

Sarek looked into the hopeful eyes of his son, Human eyes people used to say when Spock was a child – dark, like his; but their expressiveness…that was entirely his mother. "Perhaps," Sarek conceded.

 

Spock cleared his throat softly. "Also, the captain believes we should offer a reward for Mother's return."

 

Sarek's eyes widened, fury that had boiled beneath the surface threatening to overflow. "Indeed? And at what price has he deemed Amanda to be worth?" he said with feigned calm.

 

Spock squatted beside his father's chair, bringing them eye-to-eye. "Sarek, it is only because greed is a motivating factor for many--"

 

Sarek held up a hand, stopping him. "I know, Spock. Forgive me." Sarek closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths in an attempt to center himself once more.

 

"Perhaps you should rest now," Spock suggested.

 

Sarek's eyes didn't open, but a wan smile briefly crossed his lips – an act that alarmed Spock far more than the lines in his face or the bags beneath his eyes. "Rest is not easy to come by just now."

 

"Meditation then."

 

"Nor that." Sarek opened his eyes to look at his son. "Do not concern yourself, Spock'am. I am not unwell."

 

Spock's lips pressed together in indecision. "Sa’mekh," he began hesitantly. "I wish to ask you something… of a personal nature, if I may?"

 

"You may ask," Sarek regarded Spock curiously.

 

"This… link you still feel to Mother… you say it has greatly diminished?"

 

"Yes, but it is still there. I sense it."

 

"Are you certain it is her? It is not, perhaps--"

 

"It is her," Sarek interrupted.

 

"--a memory, or a remnant of a broken link?"

 

Sarek reached out to lightly touch Spock’s temple. "It is her," he emphasized. "Of this, I am certain."

 

Father and son studied each other carefully, then Spock nodded, assured by Sarek's confidence exuding through the mind touch. Sarek removed his hand and both stood up.

 

"Perhaps I shall attempt to rest." Sarek took another cleansing breath. "Tell Kirk I accept his suggestion. Whatever amount he deems appropriate is acceptable."

 

"I shall," Spock promised, walking his father out the door, where the Vulcans then parted ways.

 

**~~**

 

"Approaching the Neutral Zone, Captain." Sulu slowed the speed of the craft, turning in his seat to eye his commander speculatively. "Do we enter?"

 

Jim Kirk pressed his lips together in indecision. To enter was a treaty violation. On the other hand, he had been ordered to assist in any way he could, but he knew those orders did not exceed Federation law. The sound of the bridge doors opening gave Kirk a reprieve, and he sighed in relief when Spock approached his chair. The Vulcan’s eyes locked on the view screen and the span of space no doubt he could identify on sight. "Any more of those clusters?" he asked hopefully.

 

Spock shook his head regretfully. They had not found a plasma cluster in several hours, in which time they should have found several based on the pattern thus far. Each minute seemed more an indication that Sarek's concern that it was mere coincidence might be correct.

 

"Anything on the sub-space frequencies, Uhura?" Kirk asked.

 

"No, sir. There's some chatter about the abduction and the reward, but nothing definitive." She turned in her chair to look at Spock. "Sorry."

 

"Run us parallel, Navigator. Let's look around for a bit. Bring us down to cruising speed, Mr. Sulu." He shrugged helplessly at his first officer. "Maybe something'll pop up?"

 

Spock nodded grimly, crossing his arms in thoughtful contemplation.

 

"Repeat that again, Epsilon 6. We did not copy." Uhura's voice was raised, her pronunciation clear as she attempted to communicate with some alien transmission. "This is Enterprise. Over."

 

Spock and Kirk turned to watch the communications officer curiously. 

 

"Affirmative, we are on a search and rescue mission only. Over." Her head was tilted, her brow creased as she studiously listened to her earpiece. "Please repeat, Epsilon; are you saying you have the ambassador's wife at your station?"

 

Now she had everyone's attention, and all eyes were on the Bantu woman as she closed her eyes in concentration. Opening them, she turned to speak to the captain. "Epsilon 6 reports an unconscious human female found on their base several hours ago. They cannot confirm her identity."

 

"Tell 'em we're on our way." Kirk spun back around. "Sulu, show us Epsilon 6." The stars faded to a chart mapping the space surrounding Epsilon 6. 

 

"Epsilon 6 is a small trading base, located on Vulcan's trade route." The helmsman's deep timbre recited the facts he read from his console. "It is within the Neutral Zone, Captain."

 

"Understood, Sulu. Turn us around, gentlemen. Let's get there as soon as possible."

 

"Captain, I could take a shuttle in--"

 

"No, Spock. A shuttle is too vulnerable. The base is barely in the Zone; if there's any trouble we'd be back in Federation space in no time."

 

"But it may not even be her," Spock reminded him, his hands tensely gripping the arms of Kirk's chair. "And if the Carolina should report our whereabouts--"

 

"The Carolina is still back where we found the shuttle, conducting searches. Their scanners can't see us here." Jim gave Spock a sidelong glance. "Think positively, Spock. That's an order!" He smiled sympathetically, turning his attention back to the view screen. "What's our ETA?"

 

"ETA is 20.54 minutes."

 

"In that case," he patted Spock's hands, causing the Vulcans to immediately release his hold on the chair, “we'd better get ready." 

 

~~**~~

 

Kirk and Spock entered the transporter room, pleased to see Dr. McCoy and the two security officers already in place. Climbing the steps, he and Spock took the two front beaming positions. Opening his mouth to give the order to beam, James was stunned into silence when Ambassador Sarek strode into the room, heading directly for the transporter. Gone were the flowing robes and the regal suits; now he was dressed in a plain grey shirt and pants. He could have been anyone from a vacationer to a tea trader. He could have been; but he wasn't. Kirk stepped off his pad onto the steps, blocking Sarek's path. "Ambassador, I'm sorry, but I must insist you remain on board. We're no longer in Federation space, and it's simply not safe for you to beam down to this base."

 

Sarek stopped short, glancing from his son to the captain. He took a deep breath, his steely gaze boring into the human that blocked him. "I am not unaware of the responsibilities you have regarding the safety of Federation emissaries, Captain." 

 

"I appreciate your understanding--"

 

"Which is why as of 10.98 Standard minutes ago I resigned my position." He attempted to step around the human, but Kirk stepped with him, blocking his path still. 

 

"Retired or not, you're hardly an average citizen." 

 

Spock watched the interplay. Sarek's demeanor remained peaceful, but Spock did not miss the fists clenched by his sides. He stepped down to intercede. "Captain, there is nothing remotely legal in what we are doing, regardless of who accompanies us." 

 

Kirk sighed loudly. "I would think you of all people would prefer your father remain safely on the ship." 

 

"C’mon, Jim," McCoy called impatiently from the transporter pad. "Whoever she is, I have an unconscious human down there I need to examine and you gents are wasting time yammering away. You know he's gonna find himself some way down there with or without us. Might as well have him in the company of some security." 

 

Kirk glared at his CMO. He didn't particularly care for his senior officers ganging up against him. His gaze then stabbed at Spock, then the ambassador, whose look seemed in imply he would do just as McCoy said. Without a word Kirk turned around and took his place on the transporter pad. 

 

Sarek stepped up onto the spot Spock had previously occupied as Spock took the remaining empty position directly behind his father. 

 

Kirk glanced at the ambassador in disbelief, then to Spock, and finally glanced back at McCoy, who refused to meet his eyes. Turning forward, Kirk tugged down on his tunic, straightening to his full authoritative height. "Once we've landed, beam down two additional security officers, Scotty."

 

"Aye, sair," Mr. Scott quickly acknowledged. 

 

"Energize." As they began to dematerialize, Kirk stole another furtive glance at the ambassador.

 

**~~**

 

They materialized in the beam down center of a bustling lobby. Stepping quickly aside, they waited for the other two security personnel to beam down; meanwhile they watched the various alien races rush past them, many glancing at them curiously, but no one stopped to address them. The security officers materialized, quickly taking their place in the landing party.

 

"Well," Kirk threw up his hands helplessly, taking one last look around before turning to his party. "You'd think someone would be here to meet us."

 

"Perhaps that is him, Captain," Spock pointed behind Kirk.

 

Jim turned around, watching in fascination as a bloated grey being made his way towards them, lumbering as fast as his swollen legs would take him. His arms – all four of them -- were held up in a defenseless position, and as he drew near Kirk could hear him muttering the same word over and over again. "Yes, yes, yes, yes."

 

Jim waited until the alien stopped before him.

 

"You are Enterprise, yes?" the being asked, his hands remaining in front of him.

 

"Yes," Kirk answered slowly. "I am James Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise."

 

"Yes, yes," he answered quickly. "Me Quisvar, base mine, yes?" He glanced nervously around them. "This way you come, yes?" he asked, gesturing towards a closed storage door down the hall, then headed in that direction but stopped to turn back every few seconds to make sure they followed.

 

"Where is the woman?" Sarek called out brusquely.

 

"Yes, yes," the being placated. "This way you come, yes?"

 

They followed his slow gait, each of them beginning to pick up the being's gesture of glancing around nervously. Finally, they reached the door and Quisvar unlocked it, sliding the large door open with two hands and then gesturing frantically for them to precede him inside with the other two hands. "Hurry, yes? Federation here, bad for business, yes?"

 

The men went inside, finding themselves in a cavernous, dingy, windowless room. The being followed them in, shutting the door, which enclosed them in complete darkness. They could hear the being's labored breathing as he shuffled about the room, then, at last, a small light above them was turned on. Kirk was pleased to note all his security team had their weapons pulled and at the ready; but there appeared to be no one else in the room.

 

"Where is the woman?" Kirk reiterated Sarek's earlier question.

 

"Yes, yes… woman there." He gestured to the other end of the room, which was too dark for them to see clearly.

 

McCoy stepped around them and went to the other side, pulling a light from his medkit on the way. A security officer and Sarek followed him. 

 

"How did you find her?" Kirk asked the being while he waited for word from the others. 

 

"Yes." The being closed his eyes, concentrating, then opened them, forming his words slowly. "Unauthorized beam on base, yes? Trace to here, find woman, yes?"

 

Kirk glanced at Spock, but his attention was focused on the other end of the room. "Is she alive?"

 

"Yes. She breath, she live, yes?"

 

"Bones?" Kirk yelled out to him.

 

"It's her, Jim. We've got to get her to the ship right away."

 

Spock jogged towards them, meeting his father half way, his mother cradled protectively in his arms. Kirk could see enough to tell she was in bad shape. Spock looked at him pleadingly, and with a nod of his head, he allowed Spock to accompany McCoy and his parents back to the ship. As they beamed up, he turned his attention back to the being. "Who beamed her in?"

 

"Quisvar not knowing, yes?"

 

"You've got to have records. Who was here around the time she was dropped off?"

 

The being pressed his thick lips together, emitting a high-pitched whining noise. "Quisvar has records, yes… for some."

 

"For some," Kirk repeated ominously.

 

"Quisvar base profitable," he explained. "Many here – Andoria, Rigel, Coridan, Menk, Vulcan, Ferengi, Risa, Orion, Klingon –" he counted each species off on his fingers of one hand, "-- all like trade, not all like records, yes?"

 

Kirk rubbed his forehead tiredly. "But you have some idea who was here at the time she arrived?"

 

"Quisvar not notice, then Quisvar live long time, yes?"

 

"Right." Kirk released a loud sigh. "All right, how long ago then?"

 

Quisvar stared at him blankly, his head slowly tilting in puzzlement. "Yes?"

 

"When was she beamed here? How long ago? How many hours?"

 

"Hours, yes." The being stopped speaking, his face contorting into an almost painful expression. "Many hours. Maybe…twenty…yes?"

 

"Twenty hours?" Kirk exploded. "You've had her laying here in this…" he threw his hands up angrily, and began pacing in a tight circle, "warehouse for twenty hours… with no medical help… and you didn't bother to report it?"

 

Quisvar watched the captain curiously, the human's movements were jerky, his face reddening peculiarly. "Yes…" he said slowly, shrugging his thick shoulders as much as they'd go. "Quisvar not know of reward then, yes?"

 

Kirk took a deep breath, turning away from the being to keep his cool. "Get ready to beam up!" he yelled at his security team, who jumped into position. Kirk took his place, taking out his communicator and snapping it open violently. "Kirk to Enterprise. Five to beam up."

 

Quisvar stepped forward, waving his hand to get Kirk's attention. "Federation ship leaving now, yes?"

 

"Yes!" Kirk yelled back.

 

The being began patting his chest softly. "Yes… reward for Quisvar, yes?"

 

Kirk closed his communicator, sliding it back onto his belt. "Don't worry," he snapped at the alien as the tingle of the transporter's effects began. "I'll make sure you get everything you deserve."


	2. Chapter 2

Kirk walked into sickbay, stopping beside Spock and Soran, who stood in the exam room doorway watching from a distance. Inside, Sarek stood a few feet from the bottom of Amanda's exam table, also watching. McCoy tended to her on one side, T'Pher on the other. Christine Chapel flittered about the room attending to the physicians' needs.

 

"Most of her finger nails are broken," McCoy murmured, picking up Amanda's hands to examine them more closely. "She struggled with someone or something." He pushed up the sleeve of her dress. "Not a whole lot of bruising though. Looks like some around her wrist – probably find a sprain here. Christine, can you get me some cutters? We'll need her out of these clothes, and there's not much here worth saving."

 

"Right beside you, Doctor," Christine answered as she pushed a rolling tray of instruments over the end of the bed for both physicians to reach. 

 

T'Pher took the instrument, and immediately cut a long line up the torso of Amanda's dress, then ripped it open. Christine quickly pulled the privacy blind from out of its recess in the bulkhead to block the view from the door. "Substantial contusion on the left rib area." The whirr of a medi-scanner could be heard through the privacy blind. "Fracture of the first and second vertebral rib."

 

"Some bruising on the right side too, not too bad though." McCoy pulled her arm out of its sleeve. "No pressure marks on her arms or shoulders."

 

"Doctor?" the Vulcan healer asked curiously.

 

McCoy glanced up. "Pressure marks. Like if someone grabbed her, like this." He held his hands up, shoulder-width apart, fists clenched as though holding someone by both arms. "Commonly found if a victim were--" he glanced at Sarek differentially, “well, if a victim is physically forced."

 

T'Pher followed McCoy's glance to the ambassador and back. "I see," she said, although she wasn't sure why the doctor could not speak of it. Perhaps it was a cultural taboo, such as with pon farr? She moved the instrument tray then began examining Amanda's lower body. "Several lacerations and contusions to the lower legs and feet. A fracture of the proximal phalanx of the lateral toe on her right foot." She picked up Amanda's foot to examine it more closely. "Several nails on her feet are broken as well." Seeing something curious, T'Pher scraped at the pinkish hue covering Amanda's toenails. "I assume this is decorative?" she asked, holding the foot up for McCoy to see.

 

Leonard glanced up from where he was examining Amanda's abdomen and pelvic area. A grin broke out over his face. "Yeah, that's normal."

 

T'Pher gently put Amanda's foot down, then resumed her place opposite McCoy. "These marks here, however, are not contusions." She brushed Amanda's hair aside to look more closely at the circular mark above Amanda's ear. McCoy did the same on the right side. 

 

"No," he agreed. "These look more like burn marks; but from what?"

 

T'Pher said nothing, but looked more closely at Amanda's readings over the biobed. "Your instruments show she is in a deep unconsciousness. A coma?"

 

McCoy shrugged. "Technically, yes; but it could be temporary. There's some swelling to the brain, not a dangerous amount, but we'll have to keep a close eye on her. Looks to me like she's got herself a real good concussion. Not unexpected, and not necessarily anything to worry about; but when the swelling goes down, she may wake right up."

 

"Or she may not?" T'Pher confirmed.

 

"Or she may not."

 

T'Pher waved the medi-scanner over Amanda's head. "There is some injury to the brain, however."

 

"Some," McCoy agreed. "Looks like the limbic area - mostly associated with memory but nothing to the stem. Let's roll her over, I just wanna take a look at the backside." T'Pher reached across Amanda's hip and back, carefully rolling her up toward her onto her right side and held her steady while McCoy continued the examination. "There's blood in her hair," he commented.

 

"The brain damage does not concern you?"

 

McCoy took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Well," he murmured as he lightly ran his fingers over Amanda's back and neck. "I don't like to go lookin' for trouble." He ran his fingers through Amanda's hair, feeling the scalp. "She's alive, and she's stable. Other than a few minor injuries, her unconsciousness is the only real concern; and even if you assume her head injury occurred at the time the shuttle was attacked which was probably – what? Three days ago? Maybe four? That wasn't that long ago." McCoy's fingers pried into the streaked, sticky tangle of hair and felt the puffy edges of the laceration. He parted the hairs to take a better look. "Yep, here it is. Took a nasty blow the head. No wonder she's out." Christine came to his side holding some antibacterial cleansing clothes, a dermal regenerator, and a micro-electrolysis machine. Cleaning her wound the best he could, McCoy applied electrolysis to remove the hair immediately surrounding the laceration, then applied the regenerator to form a temporary "skin" over the wound. Having done all that could be done for her at the moment, he straightened, gesturing to T'Pher to help him lay her back down. Christine took her supplies and the tray away, replacing it with another tray prepped for gynecological and catheterization needs.

 

"What is your recommendation?" T'Pher asked.

 

"Tincture of time, madam, and some close observation." He saw her glance at Amanda uncertainly. "You disagree?"

 

T'Pher surprised him by letting out a small sigh of her own. "I admit I am not particularly familiar with the makeup of the human brain."

 

McCoy smiled good-naturedly. "Neither are we. Brain injuries are… uh… unpredictable. From what I've seen, not even your people have the brain all mapped out yet."

 

T'Pher nodded, thinking of Talik. "In that case, I shall leave you to your patient and will see to my own." She bowed to him, then left.

 

McCoy slid the instrument tray down to the bottom of the bed, placing Amanda's lower legs in some braces he pulled from the sides of the bed, and placing a drape across her waist and thighs. "I assume you followed all that, Ambassador?" He performed a quick gynecological exam then stepped aside so Chapel could step in to insert a urinary catheter. 

 

"Yes," Sarek said quietly.

 

"If I can answer any questions…" McCoy offered, helping Christine by being an extra set of hands.

 

"Not at this time, Doctor."

 

Finished, McCoy helped lay Amanda's legs back on the bed, and tucked the braces back into their hiding spots. "She's good," he assured Sarek. "I think she fought, and by the shape her feet are in, I think she was dragged around. She wasn't exactly handled with kid gloves, but it could have been much worse." Sarek merely nodded silently. McCoy moved past him to grab a chair from across the room, which he placed beside Amanda's bed. "Feel free to stay as long as you want. I'll inform Spock and the captain of our findings. Nurse Chapel will attend to your wife; if you need anything, just let her know."

 

Again, the Vulcan did nothing but nod, his dark, haunted eyes never leaving his wife's still form. 

 

"Ya know, for what it's worth, I think she's gonna be just fine." This got Sarek's attention, and he focused on McCoy. "Now, I can't prove it; but my intuition tells me so. And I think even your son would admit that my intuition is pretty good."

 

Sarek watched the doctor for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "Spock has faith in your abilities, Doctor McCoy. As do I."

 

McCoy was so taken aback by his statement, he physically flinched. "I'm… honored, sir." He bowed slightly, as T'Pher had done, then left the ambassador with his wife.

 

Sarek moved up alongside Amanda, but didn't sit. For some time he simply stared at her, watching the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, and willed her to open her eyes and scold him for watching her sleep, as she'd often done. Her eyes twitched, her face grimacing then lifting, teasing him, as though she were about to awaken, but she did not. A sudden violent twitch in her hand brought his attention to it, so Sarek picked it up, cradling her hand between his, calming it's movements.

 

Christine pulled another tray up to the bed, this one containing a bowel of water, some cloths, and various medical ointments and wrappings. "She's lucky," she informed Sarek playfully. "Doctor McCoy doesn't allow water baths for just anyone." She smiled sympathetically when her attempts failed to lighten his mood. "I just need a few more things, then I'll get her cleaned up."

 

When she walked away, Sarek picked a cloth from the tray, dipped it into the warm water, then began to gently wipe the dirt and grime from Amanda's face and neck, slowly and methodically working his way over her body. 

 

Nurse Chapel returned, and if she disapproved of his actions, she said nothing but simply took up where he left off washing his wife with a gentle but efficient touch. When all that remained was her back, Sarek assisted in rolling Amanda again so Chapel could complete the washing. He glanced up as Spock and Doctor McCoy came around the privacy blind to see them.

 

"When you're done with that, I'll help you with those ribs if you want," Leonard offered to Christine, picking up a sickbay gown and laying it as best he could over Amanda.

 

Christine glanced up, her eyes roaming from McCoy to Spock then to Sarek. "That’s ok, I think I'll have plenty of helping hands here."

 

McCoy glanced at the Vulcans as well. "Looks it. I'll be in my office working on my report then." 

 

Spock watched McCoy leave then waited helplessly as Sarek and Nurse Chapel tended to his mother, wrapping a bandage around her chest to stabilize her cracked ribs.

 

"Let's get her gown on now," Christine suggested, and Spock sprang into action, pulling the gown off his mother to spread behind her back.

 

"Actually Spock, put it on backwards." At his questioning gaze she explained. "Instead of wrapping it around her and tying it like usual, we'll just slide it on backwards and let it lay over her. It's easier when patients are unconscious." They rolled Amanda onto her back. 

 

Spock complied, covering Amanda and sliding her right arm into the convalescent gown, grateful to be helping in any way. He handed Sarek the other side, who then slipped her left arm into the gown. 

 

"If you can hold her a little while, Ambassador, I'll do her hair."

 

"I can hold her," Sarek quietly assured her, sitting on the bed beside his wife and helping to slowly lift Amanda and settle her against his shoulder.

 

Spock handed her the brush, and whatever other items she requested, taking away whatever items she no longer needed.

 

Very carefully, Christine worked the brush through the tangles in Amanda's hair, being careful not to disrupt the fragile "skin" covering her head wound, and finally piled the mass atop her head in a loose bun, then got up and began putting the unused medical equipment away.

 

Sarek laid Amanda back down, adjusting her gown to spread it out to cover her as much as possible. Spock walked over to a cabinet located near the entryway and brought back a light blanket, which he spread over his mother's legs. "Peculiar marks," Spock commented, leaning down to take a closer look at her head.

 

Sarek did the same. "From a device of some kind, no question."

 

"Yes, but for what purpose? Restraint seems unlikely."

 

"Agreed. Perhaps some brand of--" Sarek's voice stuck, requiring he clear his throat to continue, "torture."

 

Spock glanced at his father, then his mother, his eyes roaming her entire form. "I think that unlikely, based on Dr. McCoy's findings. If their intent was torture, I would expect far more numerous, and more severe, injuries."

 

Sarek said nothing, reaching out to touch her wound gently.

 

"Kroykah!"

 

Sarek and Spock looked up at the healer, startled.

 

"Do not attempt to seek her mind, Ambassador," T'Pher warned.

 

"I did not--" Sarek denied.

 

"It could cause more damage than already exists." T'Pher walked over to the end of the bed, looking over the ambassador and his wife appraisingly. "I gather there has been no change even with physical contact?"

 

Sarek glanced uneasily at Spock. "No," he admittedly reluctantly, "however McCoy did say that with time she would heal. Surely that will resolve the issue."

 

"I think that unlikely." At their disconcerted looks, she explained. "If whatever occurrences they endured could cause Talik to enter foshin'ilk, then the probability of your wife recovering intact is exceedingly low."

 

"Humans are resilient beings," Spock spoke up, "with their own defense mechanisms."

 

"They do not have the mental fortitude that we do."

 

"No," Spock admitted, “but where they lack strength they have an abundance of flexibility – of adaptability. In my experiences, this has great value to them and their survival."

 

"We shall see, Spock." T'Pher turned away from him, focusing her attention solely on Sarek. "The Terran healers wish to give her time to fulfill her potential. We shall grant this, for now. But soon decisions will have to be made."

 

Sarek didn't meet her eyes, but nodded solemnly. 

 

"In the interim, since your wife has been found and is stable, I must insist you retire to your quarters to sleep. If you require my assistance--"

 

"I do not," Sarek assured her impatiently, standing to go as Nurse Chapel returned and began attending to the lacerations on Amanda's feet. Nothing further was said among the Vulcans, and after an assurance that he would be called at the slightest change in her condition, Sarek returned to his quarters, alone.

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek lay awake on his bed, staring blankly at the grey ceiling above him. 'Two hundred fourteen hours, fifty-nine minutes, and forty-eight seconds…two hundred fourteen hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-one seconds…two hundred fourteen hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-four seconds…two hundred fourteen hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-seven seconds…two hundred fourteen hours, fifty-nine minutes and – oh…two hundred fifteen hours.' He rolled onto his side, sighing deeply. Amanda had lain motionless in that sickbay for almost nine days now. The swelling in her brain had deceased, and she was healing well; everything was functional and yet she showed no signs of awareness, and no indication she may wake up soon, or ever. 

 

Talik was suffering a worse fate. Approximately twenty-eight hours ago, his heart rate plummeted, and his organs began to shut down, one by one. He was currently being sustained through medical efforts, and the Enterprise was enroute to Vulcan, at high warp, to admit him to Vulcan medical facilities; Amanda as well. For reasons he could not identify, Sarek felt a sudden weight in his gut whenever he considered this. It was illogical. Vulcan has some of the brightest minds in the Federation there, the most advanced medical techniques and equipment. He should be relieved at the thought of Amanda receiving such care, but he was not.

 

Sarek leaned over to open a nightstand drawer on Amanda's side of the bed. He had placed many of her smaller items recovered from the shuttle in there. Going through them, he pulled out the jewelry, her holo-pic album, her personal journal padd, several literature discs, and a paper album Amanda had made years ago containing various short pieces of writing she particularly enjoyed. Putting everything else back, Sarek sat up higher in bed and flipped casually, but carefully, through the pages. It seemed mostly poetry and quotations, all Terran in origin. Odd, since Amanda didn't limit her reading generally. But then, she was still quite young when she made this, and hadn't the experiences with other cultures she'd accumulated since. Sarek stilled in his page turning, his expression thoughtful. Perhaps this was more than a mere collection of preferred works? Perhaps these words had special meaning to her?

 

Sliding out of bed to dress, Sarek took Amanda's book with him when he left his quarters.

 

~~**~~

 

It was late into the ship's night, or early in ship's morning, to Sarek's way of thinking. At any rate, the corridors were empty, and sickbay was dark and deathly quiet, which suited his needs. He had taken the habit of visiting at these times in order to have uninterrupted time with his wife. Seemingly an illogical act since she was in a coma, Sarek had begun doing so since he was instructed to have conversations with Amanda as much as possible as part of her therapy. Small talk was always a challenge to him, and it proved even more so with someone who could not respond. Having various people nearby to hear his attempts made the task nearly impossible. So he came at night when only the duty nurse was present, and she stayed out of the room except when she made her rounds. 

 

Coming up beside Amanda, Sarek turned the chair to face the wall behind her head, giving him a view of her but specifically blocking his view of the rest of the room and giving him more of the illusion of privacy. He watched her a moment then reached out to take her hand, resisting the urge to brush against her mind, instead looked for any minute change that might indicate she knew he was there. Her face continued its random twitching, the alternate smiles and frowns regardless of the circumstances around her, the never ceasing kicks and hand jerks. Releasing her hand, Sarek looked at the book he'd brought with him, opening it to a random page near the beginning. 

 

"'Flaming Heart', Author Unknown," he began then stopped, looking back at her. "I have decided not to continue with the collected works of Professor Sheliorais for this evening. Instead, I have brought your book with me." He paused, studying her, then resumed his reading.

 

"'I have a flaming fire in my heart, and it's burning just for you. Without you, my love, the fire will die and so will I.

 

My love,

Let's let the fire burn,

We must let it go, let the fire go, let the passion go.

 

For all its fire, it burns, but it also sustains life. It sears, but it also chases away the chill of the night. At times, it even destroys, its flames gone wild and uncontrolled… and still, we draw near, gather close… fascinated with the flickering of its endlessly varying flames.'"

 

"Seems almost Vulcan," he murmured, turning the page. "'Fire and Ice' by Robert Frost.

 

“'Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those that favor fire.'" 

 

Sarek stopped, glancing at his wife, amused. "I am sensing a pattern, kwai pi'jarel," he teased softly, using a pet name he sometimes called her in private. A blip on her bio-scanner drew his attention; some of her levels had increased enough to set off the alarm. Sarek put the book aside, standing to lean over her. "Amanda," he called softly, rubbing his hands briskly over both her arms, trying to arouse her. "Amanda," he called louder. Her eyes opened, staring straight up at him. Taken by surprise, Sarek slowly sank down to sit on the edge of the bed beside her, her eyes following his movement. "Amanda?" he asked softly.

 

"Everything ok?" The night nurse came in, checked Amanda's bio-scanner, then ran a quick physical assessment on her.

 

"Her eyes are open."

 

"Yeah, I see that. She's all right though." She made notation on a padd containing Amanda's medical chart. "I've called Dr. McCoy to let him know."

 

The alarm beeping stopped, causing both Sarek and the nurse to glance up and see that Amanda's levels had dropped back down. When he looked down, Amanda's eyes were closed. 

 

"What happened?" Sarek asked.

 

The nurse was spared a response by the entrance of a sleepy-eyed, disheveled Dr. McCoy. McCoy ran his hands quickly through his hair, attempting to straighten it, then tucked his undershirt into his pants. "You're here late, Ambassador," he said as he took the padd from the nurse and scanned her entries.

 

"She woke up," Sarek informed him eagerly.

 

McCoy reached up to touch the bio-scanner screen, changing the display to various images indicating specific medical data. He returned the display to its normal monitoring readout. "Well, she had an increase in brain wave activity, followed by a sudden increase in heart rate. That's what set off the alarm. Her heart's fine though - everything looks fine, medically."

 

"Is she awake?"

 

McCoy sighed. "No, she's not really what we'd call awake. I'm sorry."

 

"Her eyes opened; she followed me."

 

"I know. That can happen sometimes, but it's more an autonomic response then a cognitive one. I don't think she really saw you."

 

Sarek stood up, glancing at his wife mournfully. "Then this means nothing?"

 

"Not necessarily. It could mean she is in the process of awakening, or it could be a fluke. I'd be more encouraged if we could cause the response." McCoy leaned close, holding his hands just above Amanda's face, then clapped them together, loudly. There was no reaction. "Hmm," he murmured, glancing from Amanda's still form to her hovering husband. "Amanda," he called to her with a raised voice, pinching her on the arms and legs. Still, no reaction. 

 

"Is Mother well?"

 

Sarek and McCoy both turned to see Spock in the doorway. He hurried over to them, watching Amanda anxiously.

 

"Another night owl in the family?" McCoy asked sardonically.

 

"It is morning for me, Doctor. I was checking on my mother before heading to the labs. Has there been a change in Mother's condition?"

 

Spock's anxiety rose when an obscure look passed between McCoy and his father. "It's too soon to tell yet. Ambassador, what happened just before she opened her eyes?"

 

Sarek shook his head, thinking of nothing of importance. "I was reading to her from a collection of her favorite poems."

 

"Try reading to her again."

 

Sarek took an uneasy breath, nodded hesitantly, then picked up Amanda's book. He opened to a random page and began to read. "'There is a Lady Sweet and Kind' by Thomas Ford.

'There is a lady sweet and kind,

Was never a face so pleased my mind;

I did but see her passing by,

And yet I'll love her till I die.

 

Her gesture, motion, and her smiles

Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,

Beguiles my heart, I know not why,

And yet I'll love her till I die.'

 

Sarek glanced up hopefully, but Amanda's eyes remained closed. He looked helplessly at his son and the doctor.

 

"It was worth a try," McCoy offered sympathetically. 

 

Sarek nodded resignedly, closing the book.

 

"Is that the same poem you read before?"

 

Sarek looked up at Spock. "No, at the time I was reading a poem called 'Fire and Ice'."

 

Spock nodded, familiar with Terran poetry – his mother's favorites in particular. "Perhaps you should try reading that one again. Attempt to recreate the same circumstances."

 

Sarek flipped through the pages until he found the correct poem. He read the same lines as before then stopped, but Amanda's eyes remained closed.

 

"There is more to the poem," Spock prompted him.

 

"I know, but I did not complete it before."

 

"Well, let's just give 'er a little more time," McCoy said, stepping forward and pressed a hypo against Amanda's arm. "I guess I'll be seeing you gentlemen later since, by my count, there's still about four hours left to my night."

 

McCoy left, leaving a silent Spock and Sarek behind. Spock moved closer to his mother, absently straightening her blankets as he looked at her. "'Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those that favor fire,'" he quoted, pausing expectantly. "Then she opened her eyes?" he asked Sarek.

 

Sarek nodded.

 

"Frost has always been one of Mother's favorites," Spock said lamely, trying to bridge the unusual – although understandable – gap in Sarek's conversation. Realizing he was reduced to making small talk – a human weakness – Spock quickly excused himself for the labs.

 

~~**~~

 

It was time for end meal. Spock left the bridge and made his way to sickbay, stopping off at the cafeteria to grab a tray for himself and his father. Today, although Spock was unsure where the idea originated, Sarek wished to partake end meal in his mother's presence, as they normally would eat together if she were well. 

 

Spock entered to find Sarek seated beside his mother. Christine Chapel stood at the foot of Amanda's bed, running an emery board across each of his mother's toenails while she chatted with Sarek. He placed the trays on the desk of the room's nursing station then went over to watch her work, giving the nurse a questioning stare.

 

"No woman wants unmanicured nails, Mr. Spock."

 

"Of course not," Spock said sardonically. 

 

Christine wiped the nail dust off Amanda's foot and put it down, covering her back up. "All finished," she commented as she began picking up her tools. She looked over at the trays on her desk. "I'll let you eat in peace now. There's a small table in Len's office, if you want it."

 

"I will get it," Spock answered, recalling the table she spoke of. When he returned she was already gone, but a second chair had been left in the room for him. Spock placed the table beside his father, then fetched the trays and took his place opposite Sarek. Against their usual custom of eating in silence, Sarek expressed a desire to converse through end meal for Amanda's benefit. Spock complied, and they discussed a variety of topics from his work in the labs, to Sarek's latest negotiations. As they cleaned up from dinner Sarek pulled out a chess set, and without breaking their conversation both men settled into a long, competitive series of games lasting late into the ship's night. 

 

"My eyes would be crossed if I stared at that board as long as you two have." McCoy came over to check Amanda's readouts and run a quick physical. "So who's winning?"

 

"We are currently tied," Spock commented, making his next move.

 

"Correction," Sarek said, making his move quickly, "we were tied, my son. Check mate." As Spock looked closer at the board, checking the validity of his father's claim, Sarek stood. "I wish to show you something, Doctor." He leaned down, pressing his face next to his wife's then whispered something into her ear.

 

"Sarek," Spock's hushed exclamation brought Sarek up to look at his wife, whose eyes had opened.

 

McCoy reached his hand out in front of her, index finger extended, then slowly moved it towards the side. She followed his finger for a brief second, then resumed staring straight ahead. 

 

"Mother?" Spock called out, hoping she might glance his way, but she did not react. McCoy tried moving his index finger again, and got the same reaction, then Amanda closed her eyes. Spock swallowed hard against the emotion that swelled up within him.

 

"You find it disturbing, Commander?" T'Pher stood in the doorway, watching them.

 

Spock saw Sarek glance his way, and he turned, dismayed that the healer had seen the emotion, and that Sarek now knew as well.

 

Sarek cleared his throat softly. "There has been improvement," he answered for his son, changing the subject.

 

"No." T'Pher moved into the room, standing at the foot of Amanda's bed. "There has been a change, but not an improvement."

 

"It's a good sign," McCoy chimed in.

 

T'Pher ignored the human for the moment. "How many times have you induced this reaction?"

 

"Four in total," Sarek responded, "the first, by accident, but the remaining three intentionally."

 

"And, as I understand it, this is accomplished by stating a poem that she knew?"

 

"Actually, after Spock left this morning I realized it was not after the poem but after a comment I made that she opened her eyes."

 

T'Pher raised an interested brow. "What was the comment?"

 

Sarek felt the burn of three sets of eyes watching him, awaiting his answer. "It… was a comment of particular, private, meaning to my wife and myself."

 

"I see," T'Pher murmured, clasping her hands together at her waist in contemplation. "And it is only this one comment that has induced this reaction?" At Sarek's nod, she turned her attention to McCoy. "Could it not simply be a subconscious reaction to hearing a familiar sound, or phrase?" 

 

"Possibly," McCoy admitted reluctantly, "but it could be a sign that she, at least occasionally, understands what's occurring around her."

 

"I fear you are too optimistic, Dr. McCoy. There has been no improvement here, only the possibility of improvement." She turned back to Sarek. "This is not enough."

 

"There is still time," Sarek reminded her.

 

"Yes, approximately 48.6 until we reach Vulcan. At that time Amanda will be turned over to the healers at the Science Academy, and I will give them my own recommendation."

 

"Recommendation for what?" McCoy asked harshly, not liking his medical opinion to be discounted. "If there's some treatment you think she should have, I'd be happy to discuss it with you, Doctor."

 

"I know what she refers to," Spock murmured, standing up. He turned to his father. "You cannot do this."

 

"It is too early to make any decisions, Spock'am."

 

"I disagree," T'Pher affirmed.

 

"What in the hell are you people talking about!" McCoy practically shouted at the Vulcans.

 

"Divorce, Doctor," Spock spat out, his tone hard. "Healer T'Pher has already concluded that Mother will never recover, and it is her intention to petition that their marriage be dissolved and Mother be sent away."

 

"Institutionalized?" McCoy asked, astonished.

 

"Of course not," T'Pher insisted. "She would be cared for by family."

 

"Barely," Spock amended her statement. "She would be sent away where no one would see her, to be cared for by people she does not know, and has probably never met."

 

"What does her opinion of Amanda's medical condition have to do with your parent's marriage?"

 

"It is our way," Sarek answered quickly, hoping to end the discussion. 

 

"Marriage is mandatory on Vulcan, remember, Doctor McCoy?" Spock stared into the human's eyes meaningfully.

 

"This is an inappropriate subject for discussion, Spock," T'Pher reprimanded the younger Vulcan.

 

"I contend this entire conversation has been inappropriate." Sarek began placing the chess pieces back to their starting positions, his movements unsteady. "Surely such conversations need not take place here, if at all. When we reach Vulcan," he took a deep breath and forced his gaze to meet the others', "do whatever you feel you must, T'Pher, as will I." He moved past Spock, accidentally bumping the table in his haste, knocking several pieces to the floor. Spock absently picked them up as Sarek left through the sickbay doors. After a hard look at the healer, Spock did the same.

 

**~~** 

 

McCoy shuffled into the mess hall. Exhaustion rivaled starvation, but for the moment, starvation won. He absently slid his meal card into the slot and picked a selection. They had one day before they reached Vulcan, and Spock's mother was still unconscious. 

 

He grabbed his tray and sulked to the nearest table, collapsing in the chair. Intellectually McCoy knew they'd done all that they could, and she was progressing satisfactorily; but still he killed himself trying to bring her around, constantly monitoring her, stimulating her, silently begging for her wake up. And why? Wasn't any of his business if Sarek decided to divorce her, no matter what the reason. So what if Sarek seemed about as unhinged as a Vulcan could get, or if Spock was as emotional as he'd ever seen him? His responsibility to Amanda was purely medical.

 

McCoy reached for a leftover pepper packet on the table to add to his meal when he noticed T'Pher seated at a table in the back, alone, absorbed in her own meal. Of course, Spock was the first officer, and the situation was certainly causing emotional and physical stress for him which could lead to health problems and a decline in his performance on the ship. Granted, McCoy hadn't looked into his physical condition or his performance reviews since this incident began, but it was a reasonable assumption. Logical, one might even say. And McCoy was responsible for Spock's well-being, so anything that affected it would be his responsibility as well. It's not interference when it's part of his duty, right?

 

McCoy stood, picked up his tray and attempted a casual appearance as he approached the healer's table. She noticed him before he was even halfway across the room and watched him expectedly. "May I?" he asked, pulling out a chair and flashing her a smile. She looked around him, scanning the nearly deserted room, before sighing and nodding her assent. He chose to ignore the nearly pained look that crossed her features.

 

"Tough day?"

 

T'Pher took a moment to chew and swallow her bite, then nodded hesitantly. "There are many preparations to be made for our arrival to Vulcan."

 

"Yeah," McCoy agreed, sighing softly. "So..." He took a moment to grab a bite, and carefully chose his words. "You've been spending time on Earth. What'd'ya think?"

 

"It causes frequent mild respiratory infections in my people."

 

"Oh…" McCoy digested this for a moment. "I suppose it might, at that. Guess I meant to ask what you thought of the people."

 

T'Pher took a drink, then shook her head. "I do not venture from the embassy much."

 

"That doesn't sound like a ringin' endorsement," McCoy chuckled. His face quickly grew serious. "And what about Amanda?"

 

"I believe she spends much of her time away from the embassy."

 

He studied T'Pher, who was staring boldly back, trying to determine if she was being intentionally dense. He was undecided. "I meant what's your opinion of her?"

 

"Why does my opinion matter?"

 

"I'm just curious."

 

T'Pher took a deep breath, staring into her salad for many minutes. McCoy was about to give up on her answering when she finally looked back at him. "I think she is a good representative of your people."

 

McCoy wasn't sure if that was a compliment. "Is she a good wife for Sarek?"

 

"Apparently so." T'Pher set her fork down and leaned back in her chair, laying her hands in her lap. "Doctor McCoy, if there is a point to this conversation I would appreciate an expedited journey to it."

 

McCoy felt his ire rise up. "Sure." He pushed his tray out of the way and laid his elbows on the table, leaning as far toward T'Pher as he could without rising from his seat. "Is Sarek goin' through pon farr soon?" She flinched, and immediately broke eye contact. McCoy's pleasure at his small victory faded as her discomfort became more and more apparent. "You wanted it expedited," he reminded her.

 

"You are crass."

 

"Blunt," he corrected. "Look, surely you see this whole situation has been hard on Sarek an' Spock."

 

"True," she quietly agreed.

 

"I know about pon farr, the gist of it anyway, an' I know there are tons of rules around it which I don't know about but… I'm not askin' this out of some prurient interest in the man's sex life. Amanda is my patient, her son has been my patient for years, and even Sarek was my patient at one point. I'm just tryin' to understand." He looked away, sighing in frustration. "Can't we talk, Healer to Healer? A medical discussion?"

 

T'Pher looked at him, then dipped her head in a small bow. "He has time," she quietly admitted.

 

"How much time; a year?"

 

"More than likely; probably several."

 

"If they were to divorce, Sarek would have to remarry, right?"

 

"Unquestionably."

 

"Sarek… he's a successful guy, good-looking, an' all, right? He wouldn't have trouble findin' a new wife?"

 

T'Pher considered this for a moment, pushing her own tray to the side and clasping her hands on the table in concentration. "I not see any difficulties. He comes from a prestigious family."

 

"Would you be interested?"

 

T'Pher frowned, then her eyes widened considerably. "Do you accuse me of using my position as Healer to end their marriage so I may take her place?"

 

"It happens."

 

"Not on Vulcan."

 

"No?" McCoy saw her chin rise indignantly. "You said he comes from a prestigious family. You wouldn't want to be part of that family?"

 

"I am part of that family."

 

"You wouldn't wa—What?" McCoy saw the corners of her mouth lift slightly before she stopped it.

 

"Sarek and I share the same lineage."

 

"You're family?"

 

"I believe that is what I said – twice, in fact."

 

"I'm sorry… I didn't know."

 

T'Pher tilted her head. "Were we expected to inform you?"

 

"No, of course not. It's just you don't act--" McCoy raised his hands in surrender. "Okay then, what's the rush with the divorce? Why can't you wait a year to give her time to heal? A year from now it might seem like nothing ever happened to her."

 

"Or she could be exactly the same."

 

"But at least he'd know he tried."

 

"You believe the dissolution would be easier a year from now?"

 

"Maybe." He'd been divorced. He knew it wouldn't. "Okay, what happens if he divorces her and remarries, then she gets better?"

 

T'Pher leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Let us not speak only of the extremes, Doctor McCoy. You claim to know of the Time, and what it entails. What if T’sai Amanda does awaken, but she does not remember her mate? Will it be easier or harder for him to choose dissolution then? And if he does not dissolve the bond in time? Pon farr is not seduction, it is biological imperative. He would be forced to do what his nature demands; and the fact that she is his wife would mean she would be forced as well. Would that be better for either of them? Or worse, what if she awakens but has the mentality of a child? Can you possibly imagine what they might endure?"

 

McCoy opened his mouth to speak, but could not. He settled for just shaking his head.

 

"It is not his convenience that causes me to press this. Sarek… I have known him my entire life. I was raised with the intention that I would serve his house in some capacity. We are not close, but I believe I have come to understand him quite well in the time I have served as his healer. I am unsure of his ability to make the decision later; nor do I think it would be any easier for him. Their bond is already weakened, better to dissolve it now then to let it strengthen only to be torn apart again."

 

McCoy nodded again, then reached out to cover her clasped hands with his own. He heard her gasp, but she did not pull away. "I'm sorry. I didn't think of it like that."

 

She looked into his eyes for several minutes. "To answer your earlier query; once the marriage is ended, it is his choice what happens next. He can begin a search for his new wife, or ask the family to arrange it, or he can wait until his Time grows nearer."

 

"And if she gets better, remarry her."

 

T'Pher nodded.

 

"But she would still be sent away from him?"

 

"It is our way. He can visit."

 

"But not be with her consistently. Her recovery will very likely be affected by that."

 

T'Pher took a deep breath. "We can attempt to make alternative arrangements, but it is not guaranteed. Once the marriage is ended, Amanda is still family through Spock, but Sarek has no claim on her. Since Spock is not… active in family matters, it will be difficult to convince the family to go against traditional procedures."

 

McCoy squeezed her hands affectionately. "But you'll try?"

 

T'Pher looked at their hands then back to his eyes. "I will try."

 

"I'm sorry if I was rude earlier."

 

"You are a passionate man."

 

"I don't mean to be." McCoy smiled and was shocked to see a slight smile was returned.

 

"A passionate man is not always a bad thing."

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek sat beside Amanda's bed, staring blankly across the room while he absently strummed out a soft tune on Spock's lyre. He'd been playing for hours, and his fingers ached, but there was only a short time before they reached Vulcan, and he intended to remain here until they did. He'd tried touching her, reading to her, talking to her, and now playing for her. He was out of ideas.

 

"Ambassador?"

 

The soft voice penetrated his musings. "Yes?" Sarek answered, turning towards the door, never halting his playing. But there was no one there. His fingers stilled on the strings. He looked behind him, but he was alone in the room.

 

"Sarek?" the voice was raspy; weak from days of no use.

 

Sarek glanced down at his wife. She looked back and blinked. Sarek immediately put down the instrument and moved to sit at the edge of the bed. "Amanda?"

 

She frowned, looking around the room in confusion, then back at him. "Embassy?"

 

"No, we are on the Enterprise."

 

She shook her head.

 

"The starship; Spock's ship."

 

She shook her head again, then held her head against her head in pain. 

 

"You were injured, and you are in the ship's sickbay."

 

Her expression was incredulous. 

 

"No matter," he soothed, unable to resist the urge to brush his fingers across her cheek although she pulled away fretfully. "Everything is all right now," he assured her.

 

The night nurse came bustling in, a tray of equipment in hand. "Well, hello there!" She made some adjustments to Amanda's bio-panel. "I've called Mr. Spock, and we're trying to reach Dr. McCoy."

 

Just then, Spock came hurrying into the room. He was dressed in a meditation robe, obviously roused from his nightly custom, and in too much of a hurry to change before coming down. He stopped beside Sarek and watched his mother, who was watching what the nurse was doing. When she looked back and saw him, she broke into a big smile. Spock looked to his father and saw the same relief he was experiencing reflected back to him. 

 

"Thank goodness you're here," she whispered, showing much relief as well.

 

Spock's eyebrow rose. "Where else would I be?"

 

"I don't know," Amanda answered. "I don't understand why any of us are here."

 

Sarek spoke to the nurse. "Perhaps you had better call Healer T'Pher as well."

 

"Certainly," the nurse agreed.

 

"And Dr. McCoy?" Spock inquired.

 

"I've tried the mess hall, the rec room, and his quarters. Ensign McGraffrey is out looking for him now, sir."

 

"Just have the computer locate him."

 

"We're only supposed to do that for medical emergencies, sir," she reminded him.

 

Spock nodded dismissively. "This counts." He went over to the comm. unit located on the nurse's station and tapped into the computer system. "Computer, location of Dr. McCoy; password XLT4936." There was a brief hesitation then the computer responded. 

 

"Dr. McCoy is located in cabin C68."

 

Spock frowned in puzzlement. "That is a guest cabin. Computer, open intercom to cabin C68." He waited a moment then T'Pher's voice came over the speaker. 

 

"Yes?"

 

Spock glanced back at his father, but he was absorbed with his wife. "Healer…is Dr. McCoy with you?"

 

There was a lengthy pause. "Affirmative."

 

Spock felt his brows rise into his hairline. "Your presence is requested in sickbay immediately. The both of you."

 

"Acknowledged," she quickly replied then terminated the connection.

 

**~~**

 

Spock moved up behind his father, watching as he helped Amanda sip from a glass of water. He heard her thank him, her voice replenished by the fluids, then she lay back against the pillows, already exhausted.

 

McCoy and T'Pher entered the sickbay together. McCoy took the report padd from the nurse, gave it a brief glance, then began to check out his patient personally.

 

"Are you the doctor?" Amanda asked.

 

McCoy glanced at T'Pher, her dark eyes radiating a sense of foreboding from her place next to Spock near the foot of the bed.

 

"I am." He smiled brilliantly. "How ya doin'?"

 

Amanda sighed. "I'm very confused, and tired."

 

"That's not surprising. Any pain?"

 

Amanda shut her eyes and nodded slightly. "Yes, my head. I feel like I've been hit by a Commuter."

 

"You've got a bit of a nasty boo-boo on the back of your head. Do you remember what happened?"

 

"No," Amanda said sleepily, then pointed towards Sarek. "He said I was injured," she opened her eyes suddenly, "and we were on a ship." Amanda lifted her head to look at Spock. "Where are we going?"

 

"Amanda," McCoy interrupted, getting her attention. "Do you know my name?"

 

She looked him over for a moment. "No."

 

McCoy nodded thoughtfully, then pointed at Sarek. "Do you know who he is?"

 

"Of course," Amanda said indignantly, eliciting a grin from McCoy.

 

"Just checking. And you know that man next to him?"

 

"Naturally," she answered, her eyelids growing heavy again. "I'm very tired now."

 

"Just a few more minutes," McCoy promised, giving the Vulcans a reassuring grin at her progress. "Tell me the last thing you do remember."

 

"I… I don't know. I just want to sleep right now."

 

"I know you do," McCoy soothed. "This is the last one, I promise. What is the last thing you remember?"

 

Amanda took a deep breath and slowly released it; her eyes closed and scrunched up in concentration. "I… went to the office. It was late. I had just finished my last class for the day." She couldn't see the confused glances that passed between the people around her. "Silek and his brother were there, discussing dinner plans. They invited me to join them."

 

"Silek…" Sarek whispered under his breath.

 

Amanda opened her eyes. "I can't remember what happened after that. Did something happen at the school? Is that where I was injured?"

 

"Amanda," Sarek began.

 

"I have only two questions," T'Pher interrupted. "They are brief." She ignored Amanda's impatient sigh. "You stated that you knew these two men," she gestured to Sarek and Spock. "What are their names?"

 

Amanda pursed her lips, looking from Sarek to Spock. "Sarek and--" She stopped, lowering her eyes abashedly. "I'm sorry. Ambassador Sarek," she stressed his title, "and Silek."

 

"Amanda," Sarek exclaimed softly. 

 

"I respectfully request the two of you to adjourn to the outer room at this time," T'Pher stated forcefully.

 

"Yes" Sarek raised a placating hand to the healer, then turned back to his wife. "Amanda--"

 

"Ambassador," she stressed again, steeling herself against the contemptuous look Sarek slid towards her. "This is important."

 

Sarek stared at his healer, whose youth and position did not enable her to keep meeting his gaze, then he looked to Spock. Spock looked from his father to his mother, who was clearly perplexed, then back to Sarek. He gave a brief nod of his head. Sarek sighed, then nodded as well, agreeing to the healer's request, and retired to the outer room with Spock in tow.

 

~~**~~

 

Soran came into the sickbay, a flurry of robes. "She has awakened," he stated, giving the others an opening to extrapolate on that he wished not to ask outright.

 

Sarek nodded. "She is awake, and well, however…" Sarek sighed, pressing his lips together grimly, "confused."

 

"Silek," Spock asked quietly, "was your brother, correct?"

 

"Yes," Sarek confirmed. "He and Amanda shared an office for some time when they both were employed at Saybrook University. This was before we were married."

 

"He died many years ago," Spock continued to recollect aloud. "Shortly after I left for the Academy, I believe."

 

"He rarely returned to Vulcan, as I recall," Soran joined. He would not go into why this was, although everyone knew of the falling out between Silek and his father, Skon. 

 

"I cannot recall ever meeting him," Spock said.

 

"For good reason," Sarek said. "You never did."

 

"But Mother knew him well?"

 

"Unquestionably. They were good friends, at the time."

 

Spock nodded, digesting this information for several minutes. "Why would she mistake me for him?"

 

Soran raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

 

Sarek's brow creased in concentration. "I do not know."

 

"Indeed?" Soran asked drolly.

 

"You have a theory, k'war'ma'khon?"

 

Soran folded his hands across his chest, staring dubiously at his friend. "More a statement of the obvious, I think."

 

"Explain."

 

Soran glanced at Spock. "He bears a striking resemblance to young Silek, does he not?"

 

Sarek looked at his son, studying him. "I suppose he does, to a degree."

 

"A great degree, Sarek'am."

 

Now Soran stood beside Sarek, both studying Spock intently. Spock shifted his weight from one foot to the next, staring hard at a point beyond both the elders, trying hard not to squirm.

 

"Interesting that I had not noticed before."

 

"Nor heard the speculation, apparently." Soran moved away to peek into the examination room. The doctors had pulled the privacy screens, but he could hear them speaking and tried to ascertain their words.

 

"What speculation?" Sarek demanded.

 

Soran shook his head, giving up on his attempt to eavesdrop. "Nothing important."

 

"Were you familiar with my uncle as well?" Spock asked.

 

"As children," Soran confirmed. "As I recall we used to hide his things from him, atop the storage shed, or buried in the yard, and such."

 

Spock's eyes widened, his gaze shifting to his father, who lowered his eyes sheepishly. 

 

"It was to keep him occupied," Sarek claimed defensively. "He was a tiresome child."

 

T'Pher and McCoy entered the room, bringing the Vulcan men to immediate attention.

 

"May we see her now?" Spock asked eagerly.

 

"She's sleepin' just now, Spock." McCoy chewed his bottom lip worriedly and glanced at T'Pher. "An' there's a couple things we need to discuss first." He paused a moment to collect his thoughts, a small sea of Vulcan eyes watching him the entire time. "Uh, you probly' noticed when we were talking to Amanda that she didn't know where she was, an' her last memory was far from anything that could have happened before she was hurt."

 

"She was confused," Sarek reiterated.

 

"Not entirely unexpected," Spock rejoined. "She had just regained consciousness after a significant head trauma."

 

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure it's just confusion. See, we were talking to her some more, after you guys left, and, uh, we feel it may be somethin' more, like a type of…amnesia."

 

"She does not know you," T'Pher said to Spock, then turned her sights to Sarek. "And you she scarcely knows; she describes you only as an ambassador and Silek's brother."

 

There were several minutes of silence as the men internalized this information. Soran cleared his throat softly. "Even amnesia is not unusual, I believe. And generally temporary?"

 

"That's true," McCoy confirmed eagerly, "And it's possible she might at any time regain total recall--"

 

"But it is highly unlikely," T'Pher interjected earning her a glare from her human peer.

 

"Here's the thing," McCoy continued on. "Amanda's amnesia doesn't seem to fit the normal patterns we see. Some people do forget a certain chunk of time surrounding an accident or traumatic event – that's very common and is generally thought to be a defense mechanism. And some people lose their memory completely which, depending on the causative factor, may be defensive or can be physical if that particular part of the brain is injured. Amanda, though, the best we can tell, has complete recall of her life up to a certain point - which actually occurred decades ago - and recalls nothing after that."

 

"And there is physical data to suggest this is not merely a psychological phenomenon," T'Pher added

 

"Explain," Spock demanded.

 

The healer continued. "We conducted additional scans of her brain. In comparison to the previous scans, the swelling has decreased, however we can now detect within the temporal region a dead area."

 

"Not necessarily dead," McCoy clarified, "but definitely damaged. A very small spot."

 

"But obviously significant."

 

"It's an unusual injury."

 

Sarek opened his mouth to speak, but paused, thinking. "There were peculiar marks on each temple. Spock and I noticed them when she was brought aboard."

 

McCoy nodded. "I saw them as well."

 

"Given her unusual condition, in conjunction with those marks, I think it likely she was subject to a mind sifting device," Sarek concluded. 

 

Spock shook his head. "The Klingon mind-sifter is not that specific."

 

"Yeah," McCoy agreed. "An' the reports I've read about its victims suggests it completely short circuits the brain, all parts of it."

 

"Perhaps they made improvements," Soran suggested. "Or perhaps it is not the Klingon mind-sifter, but a similar device we are unfamiliar with."

 

"I dunno…maybe." McCoy shot a dubious look at Spock.

 

"One thing that is now clear is the motive behind the attack," said Soran.

 

"Yes," Sarek agreed with his friend.

 

"What'd'ya mean?"

 

"Given the evidence, it is logical to assume the attack was political in nature." Soran sighed softly at McCoy's confusion. "One, a Vulcan diplomatic shuttle craft is attacked leaving everyone for dead except the ambassador's wife. Two, markings on her head suggest a device of some sort was applied. Three, she is recovered intact, other than a period of her memory which happens to coincide with the years she has been with the ambassador."

 

"Okay, but why would they bother with an ambassador's wife? Maybe I'm wrong here, but I'm guessin' Sarek doesn't spill his top secret info to Amanda. If it were me, I'd have poked around in the heads of his aides who were also on the shuttle."

 

"Perhaps they did," T'Pher murmured quietly. "Perhaps that is what caused Talik to enter foshin'ilk."

 

"Were any similar markings found on Talik?" Spock asked.

 

T'Pher shook her head. "No, however he had sustained numerous injuries and minor wounds as those may have already healed when we found him."

 

"With me not on board, and after not receiving any information from Talik, perhaps Amanda was a last resort?"

 

"Whatever their motive," T'Pher brought the subject to a temporary close, "the issue at hand is T’sai Amanda's treatment."

 

"We’ve had to tell her some things," McCoy continued. "Basically, all we told her was that she'd been injured and is suffering from memory loss, and it is now the year 2269 and she is sixty-two years old." He grinned ruefully. "It'd be quite a shock to her system if she looked in the mirror expectin' to see a twenty year old."

 

T'Pher nodded. "We have told her nothing of her life during the period her memory has lapsed." She paused, glancing at the human beside her. "Doctor McCoy is of the opinion that we should not tell her anything further." She tipped her head in a Vulcan version of a shrug. "It appears treating amnesia is more complicated for humans than for us."

 

"How could we not tell her?" Spock asked. "How will we explain our association to her? What if her memory does not return? Are we expected to lie to her the rest of her life?"

 

"No," McCoy answered defensively. "Not the rest of her life, just for awhile. Give her some time to see if she can regain her memories on her own."

 

"On Vulcan we would simply explain the situation to the patient, then use meld techniques with friends and family to help restore lost memories,” T’Pher explained.

 

"I could do that," Sarek offered. 

 

"As could I," Spock chimed in.

 

"Now, wait a minute!" McCoy uttered in complete frustration. "I don't think it's a good idea." He glared at each Vulcan in turn, stopping at T'Pher. "You were the one tellin' Sarek all along not to meld with her."

 

"We were unaware to what extent her mind may have been damaged; I was concerned it would cause additional damage, to either of them."

 

"We're still not sure, not absolutely. And Amanda's not likely to be comfortable with this idea anyway, no matter what we told her about her life." He looked to Sarek. "I'm guessin' melding wasn't something she partook in before she met you." When Sarek shook his head McCoy moved on to Spock. "Most importantly, I think doin' this would deprive Amanda of something very precious, her own memories. Even if you're showin' her memories of things you shared with her, those are still your memories, through your point of view, not hers."

 

Spock shook his head in objection. "But the purpose is to fill in the gaps for her, for now, until her own memories return – if they return. If they do not, then certainly having our memories is better than knowing nothing of her past."

 

"But it doesn't work that way, Spock," McCoy explained. "The human memory is faulty, even under the best of circumstances, but it also has a need to have everything in a linear, logical sequence. When there are gaps in the memory, even for someone who doesn't have an unusual amount of memory loss, false memories can be created to fill in these gaps. It's an unconscious behavior; false memories are made based on memories the individual does have, and logic and deduction fill in the gaps. These memories seem just as real – the person clearly see, hears, smells, tastes everything very clearly; but it didn't actually happen that way. 

 

“Amanda is missin' two thirds of her life right now. She's gonna be desperately tryin' to piece her life together; but I think it's safe to say her experiences durin' the first part of her life were vastly different than her adult life. First of all, I'm not sure she'd even believe us if we told her what she's been up to the past forty years." He smiled softly. "It's certainly an unusual life; not one I think she would have predicted."

 

"Indeed," Sarek uttered quietly.

 

"Could even be traumatic," Soran stated. "To be told you are married not merely to a man you hardly know, but to an alien; that you bore a half-alien child."

 

"Understood," Sarek said tersely. "I must pretend that my wife is not my wife, and my son is my brother."

 

"Your brother?" McCoy asked.

 

"Silek. That is who Amanda mistook Spock for when T'Pher asked her to name us." He glanced at Spock. "There is a significant physical similarity."

 

"So you'll do it?"

 

Sarek took a deep breath, then nodded. "You have been correct thus far, Doctor. Logic would suggest we continue to follow your directives."

 

"How?" Spock asked, bewildered. "You, at least, have memories to work from. How am I to pretend to be a man I never knew; step into a relationship with Amanda that I never had, or even witnessed?"

 

"I will assist you in whatever way I can, my son."

 

"Be vague," Soran suggested, earning him the attention of everyone in the room. "It is a common diplomatic tactic."

 

"Amanda's aware that a significant portion of her memory is missing, and she'll probably expect any inconsistencies are hers, not yours," McCoy explained.

 

"Perhaps," Spock muttered doubtfully.

 

McCoy took a deep breath. "In the meantime, I think we should all get some rest."

 

"I would prefer to sit with my wife, Doctor."

 

"She's sleepin', Ambassador, and I think you should too. She'll be all right." He gestured towards the doors leading to the corridor then escorted the Vulcan men out. When he returned, T'Pher remained, staring into the distance thoughtfully. "Well?"

 

He broke into her musings, and she turned to him. "Well, Doctor?"

 

McCoy shrugged. "Don'cha have anything else to say about my recommendation?"

 

She shook her head. "As the ambassador stated, you have been correct so far."

 

McCoy raised his brow in Vulcan fashion, pleasantly surprised by her attitude. "In that case, shall I walk you back to your quarters, madam?"

 

T'Pher's face softened visibly. She bowed slightly from the waist. "You are most kind, McCoy."

 

"Leonard," he softly corrected her, "and it's my honor." He gestured with an open palm towards the door, then gently placed a hand against her back as he walked beside her, pleased to see no signs of discomfort with his actions. 

 

"I do have one question about your treatment," T'Pher said as they began their walk back to the guest quarters.

 

"Ask me anything."

 

"Assuming Ambassador Sarek and Commander Spock are able to successfully execute this… pretense, as you suggest; the fact is we shall arrive at Vulcan in just a few hours’ time. I find it highly unlikely that those who know the T’sai there, and there are many, will be willing – or even capable – of doing as you suggest."

 

McCoy sighed thoughtfully. "Well, surely Sarek could sequester them for a while; or take an extended vacation somewhere else on the planet where they aren't known." He grinned. "We'll think of something."

 

"And what about 'Silek'? How will he explain leaving her on Vulcan but remaining with the ship?"

 

"Spock can take leave," McCoy said gruffly, clearing his throat. "It'll be granted, and I'm sure he has plenty saved up."

 

"Enough to last until her memory returns?"

 

McCoy shook his head slightly. "I dunno." He stopped outside her door, and pointed to the number. "This is you."

 

T'Pher nodded, then slid her hand across the sensor to open the door. She stepped into the threshold to keep it from closing. "Would you care to come in?"

 

McCoy felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "Do you want me to come in?"

 

She glanced down demurely. "We could discuss… things."

 

"Things?" he asked innocently.

 

‘"Yes, perhaps…" she stammered, searching for a subject of interest.

 

McCoy moved closer. "We'll think of something," he assured her, brushing lightly against her as he walked past to enter her quarters. 

 

T'Pher nodded, then followed him inside.

 

**~~**


	3. Chapter 3

Amanda fidgeted in her sleep. 

She can't move. She's sitting in a chair that's hard and cold. She struggles, but there are tight bands around her chest and waist holding her, squeezing her so hard she can barely breathe. It's dark. Her hands are caught under the bands, and her attempts to loosen them prove useless. Her heart is hammering in her throat. She gasps for air. Her head is pounding, making any efforts to help herself nearly impossible. She hears a noise, the scuffling of feet, and forces herself to look up. She barely catches a glimpse of a humanoid form when cold hands push her face back towards the floor. Her fright causes a small whimper to escape, and she is shamed at her lack of control. She tries to look up again and suddenly brilliant lights turn on, pointed at her, blinding her completely. She tries to adjust to it, to see who is there, but the lights surround her. She can tell there are several people in the room, remaining behind the light fixtures. She can't make them out at all. Suddenly she is gripped from behind, two hands – two cold, strong hands-- grab her around the neck, just under the mandibles, immobilizing her. “Don’t move, Hu-Man,” an icy voice commands. Something hard touches the top of her head. She tries to move but the hands become stronger, starting to choke her. The hard thing slips further over her head, a helmet of sorts, and something sharp scraps along her scalp, poking her at both temples. "Please…" she pleads, but there is no answer. The cold hands disappear and she realizes her temples are becoming warm, then hotter, now scalding. Terror streaks through her. "No!" she implores her captures once again. Then there is agony…

 

"No!" Amanda screamed, bolting upright in a vain attempt to escape her nightmare. Suddenly strong hands gripped her again, but warm this time, and she was pulled into a hard embrace. She reached blindly and wrapped her fists in some lush cloth. Soft words murmured against her ear, and she only knew she was safe. Tears pour from her eyes as hard sobs rock her slight frame.

 

She heard a female voice, the tone raised in question, and the safe voice mumbled some answer, then his arms tightened around her more. Her sobs softened, and she took several deep breaths, taking in his masculine scent. 

 

"There is nothing to fear here," the voice reassured her, and suddenly Amanda placed the voice.

 

"I'm so sorry!" She pulled away quickly.

 

Startled by her sudden move, Sarek tightened his grip lest she fall and injure herself more.

 

"I didn't mean to--"

 

"No matter." Sarek allowed his hands to loosen enough to slide down to her hands, but he did not let go. 

 

"It must have been horrible for you, my emotions--"

 

"The cause was sufficient."

 

"I'm so embarrassed." Her eyes were locked on their hands. She tried to extricate hers but his grip tightened.

 

"Amanda…" He waited one point four minutes before she finally met his eyes. "You had a dream."

 

Amanda nodded. "I must have."

 

"Do you remember?"

 

She thought a moment, then shook her head. "I remember cold, and pain." She searched his face intently. "What happened to me?"

 

Sarek swallowed against the lump in his throat. He gave her a slight shake of his head in answer as his control was too insecure for speech. 

 

"I get it. It's one of those things no one is supposed to tell me so I can have the 'privilege' of remembering it on my own."

 

"No. I truly do not know what happened to you."

 

"Hmm," She pulled her hands from his and pushed herself higher onto the bed.

 

"Do you not wish to remember your past on your own?"

 

Amanda shrugged. "I suppose I do, in the long run. It's just… I just want to know what's going on, and it’s hard being the only one who doesn't." She shook her head in frustration, her voice thickening with emotion. "I'm in a strange place, and – except for you and Silek – I am surrounded by complete strangers all of whom are keeping my life a secret from me."

 

"It is not done to hurt you."

 

She sighed. "So they say; but how do I know I should trust them?"

 

"Do you trust us?" 

 

Sarek turned to see the voice behind him, his son. A sudden chortle, although quickly muffled by her hands, made him turn back. 

 

"What is so amusing?" Spock asked, coming to stand next to his father.

 

"What are you wearing?" Amanda choked out.

 

Spock glanced down at himself and realized his faux pas; he was in uniform. He looked desperately at Sarek.

 

"You didn't join the military, did you?"

 

"Silek… has been assisting the crew during our journey."

 

Amanda couldn't stop her grin. "I see. That's a relief, at least."

 

Sarek couldn't resist a little prodding. "You would not wish for Silek to join Starfleet?"

 

"Oh god no," Amanda giggled. "Can you imagine?"

 

"I cannot," Sarek concurred.

 

"If my attire is so disruptive, perhaps I should leave?"

 

"No!" Amanda demanded. "I'm sorry, Silek. Please don't go." She patted the bed beside her. "I want your company."

 

Mollified, Spock pulled a chair up beside her bed and sat. "You look well this morning."

 

Amanda harrumphed. "For a geriatric amnesiac, you mean?"

 

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I do not think geriatric applies quite yet."

 

"Are you kidding? I'm like…eighty, or something."

 

"You are sixty-two," Sarek corrected.

 

"Same thing," she shot back, inching closer towards the edge of the bed and Spock. "My body… it's like it doesn't fit right, and my hair," she placed both hands atop her head, feeling the mass, “there's a ton of it! I can only assume I gave up on trying to look good years ago. They won't even let me have a mirror yet." She kept leaning closer to Spock in her excitement, causing him to hold his hands out in case she fell. "That can't be a good sign."

 

"I assure you there is no cause for concern." Spock glanced toward his father for help, who merely raised an eyebrow. "Please, sit back."

 

"Then bring me a mirror," she demanded.

 

"I do not have a mirror." Spock stood up and gently pushed against Amanda's shoulders, moving her a safer distance onto the bed. "Try to remain calm."

 

"Remain calm?! I mean… bogozh!" she cursed in their native tongue.

 

Sarek looked at his son, who was staring dumbfound at Amanda. "I believe Silek is merely concerned that you might worsen your condition, Amanda."

 

She looked down, but the crumpling of her chin gave away her state of upset. The Vulcans looked at each other helplessly. "Then am I fragile mentally as well as physically?" She looked up at Silek. "Do you take care of me?"

 

Spock shook his head. "No." Spock's eyebrows lifted with amusement at the thought. "In fact I think it more accurate to say you take care of me."

 

"No one would consider you a doddering old woman, if that is your concern," Sarek added.

 

Amanda opened her mouth, then abruptly closed it. "Humpf." She ran her hand through her hair. "I don't get it."

 

"Ambassador."

 

The room's occupants turned their attention to the intrusion at the doorway. "Healer?"

 

T'Pher spared a glance towards Amanda. "We have nearly reached our destination. There are a few matters I wish to discuss before we do so."

 

"Of course." Sarek stood, bowing apologetically to Amanda, then followed the healer from the room.

 

"I should let you rest," Spock suggested as he rose to leave.

 

"Silek, wait." Amanda patted the bed beside her. "Come sit with me." Spock resumed his place in the chair beside the bed. Amanda frowned at him. "I don't want anyone to overhear us." She patted the bed again and this time he moved to sit next to her. Amanda sighed contemplatively. "I don't want to be here."

 

"Understood, but this is where you should be. I promise that everyone here has your best interest in mind. You are perfectly safe."

 

"No," Amanda shook her head. "I accept that, if you say so, but I don't want to be here." She pointed down at the bed. "Is there a… hotel, or something? I could even stay with you. I'll sleep on the couch and you can watch over me if you want."

 

"Soon," Spock promised.

 

Amanda sighed, laying back against her pillow. "Can I at least call home? I should let my family know where I am."

 

Spock's lips compressed tightly. "There is no need to call anyone."

 

Amanda reached out and grabbed Spock’s hand, her eyes searching his. "There's no need to call, or there's no one to call?"

 

Spock squeezed her hand reassuringly. "There is no need to call. Your family knows where you are." He felt her hand relax in his, and her eyes began to droop.

 

"And where am I? Where are we headed?" Spock raised a reprimanding brow. "I asked where we are going – present tense, nothing about my past." He still did not answer. "Give me a break, Silek, please?"

 

"Vulcan."

 

Amanda picked her head up. "Vulcan? What for?"

 

"You…" Spock hesitated a moment, “will receive medical treatment there."

 

"Why can't I be treated on Earth?"

 

"We were closer to Vulcan."

 

Amanda lay back down, nodding sleepily. "So… we were already in space when IT happened." She was silent for a moment. "Well, that makes a little more sense then, doesn't it? Accidents are always happening in space." Spock remained silent. "Were we always headed for Vulcan, or is this a change in plans?" she asked sleepily. 

 

"That is something for you to remember," Spock reminded her. He recoiled in surprise when she stuck her tongue out at him. He was silent, watching her, until her breathing deepened. Slowly Spock rose from the bed, allowing his mother to sleep.

 

~~**~~

 

Amanda awoke to a commotion outside her room. Voices were raised, some in words that were not Standard, her name among them. Carefully she rose from her bed, surprised by the sudden pain shooting from her ribs. Ignoring that, she wrapped her blanket around her, tucking in the loose end to keep it in place, and slowly worked her way across the room. She stood in the doorway, watching in befuddlement as the ambassador and the doctor called McCoy argued with Silek and some other Vulcans over her treatment. She tried to follow it all, but their words, all meshed together, on top of her already aching head, was more than she could take. “Stop it! Just stop it!” She placed the heels of her hands against her throbbing temples.

 

A blonde nurse came rushing over, putting her arms around her and quietly urging her to return to her bed. She refused.

 

“It’s a little soon for you to be up and about,” McCoy insisted. “Get back in bed and we can discuss it there.”

 

“No!” She pulled out of the woman’s arms, wobbling a little unsteadily. “I am sick and tired of this. I will decide when I’m ready to be out of bed, and I will decide what treatments I will get and where I will get them. Who do you people think you are to make such decisions for me, to speak of me as if I wasn’t in the room? I won’t have it!”

 

Sarek came near her. “Forgive us. No one intended to upset you.”

 

She glanced at him, nodding hesitantly. She walked over to Spock, linking her arm through his for physical support. “What is this all about?”

 

Spock cleared his throat, slightly uncomfortable with the way his mother now looked to him before all others. “We have reached Vulcan, and, now that you are awake, there is some debate as to whether you should remain here for treatment.”

 

“I suggested,” Sarek said, “and Doctor McCoy concurs, that he can treat you adequately here while we return to Earth.”

 

“Is that an option? Will this ship take me back to Earth?”

 

“Not directly,” Spock answered. “The ship would work its way toward Earth while fulfilling some missions along the way. It would take several weeks.” 

 

Amanda nodded thoughtfully. “Still… my main problem is my amnesia. Seems like going home would help me recover my memories quicker.”

 

“I do not see how it could harm the process,” Sarek agreed.

 

“I take it you don’t agree, Silek?”

 

Spock shrugged, glaring at his father over her head. “I agree that going home,” he stressed at Sarek, “would help, but… I think there are advantages on Vulcan you may be unaware of.”

 

“Yes, well…” She took a deep breath, thinking. “Vulcan surely has some of the brightest minds there, and technology. But, how much experience would they have in treating humans, human brain injuries at that? I don’t imagine too much.”

 

“You might be surprised at how much a treatment on Vulcan could benefit you.”

 

Amanda nodded again. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, grabbing her head once again. “Where will you be?”

 

“Me?” Spock echoed.

 

“Yes. You… you said I was being taken to Vulcan for treatment because it was closest, but where were you headed? Why are you here?”

 

“It so happens that Silek is assisting this ship’s crew on… various projects. He would be here the entire way to Earth.” Sarek folded his hands smugly in front of him.

 

“Well,” Amanda sighed fretfully, “that settles it then. I don’t want to be left on Vulcan all alone.”

 

“You would not be alone,” Spock assured her, dumbfounded by his father’s dirty tactics. “I would stay long enough to see you settled and Sarek would remain while you are treated.”

 

“Sarek?” Amanda tugged meaningfully on Spock's arm then smiled apologetically in Sarek’s direction. “I couldn’t take up the ambassador’s time like that.”

 

“He does not mind,” Spock insisted.

 

“I do have much work waiting for me,” Sarek admitted regretfully, “on Earth.”

 

“You have plenty to do on Vulcan as well,” Spock insisted.

 

Amanda held up a hand to stop the bickering. “This is crazy. I’ve made up my mind. I want to go back to Earth.”

 

“I think you should reconsider.”

 

“No,” she shook her head. “This ship is headed back that way, the ambassador needs to get back to Earth for his work, you are going to be on this ship… It doesn’t make sense for me to stay on Vulcan.”

 

“Quite logical,” Sarek praised her.

 

McCoy snorted, quickly covering his laugh up with a cough. “Well, then, if the lady has made up her mind I really feel she should lay back down.” He held his hands up defensively at her dirty glance. “Please?”

 

“Fine,” she mumbled, allowing McCoy to assist her out of the room.

 

When she was safely out of ear shot Spock reared on his father. “What was that?”

 

Sarek raised an innocent brow. “Specify.”

 

“You manipulated her.”

 

“I said nothing that was untrue.” 

 

“Semantics,” Spock insisted. “Why?”

 

“I agree,” T’Pher interjected. “You used her fear of the unknown, of Vulcan, to get her to remain aboard this ship. Why?”

 

“I… have my reasons.”

 

“You have a plan,” Soran reiterated.

 

Sarek bowed his head toward his friend, complimenting his astuteness, but offering nothing further.

 

“What plan?” Spock demanded.

 

Sarek looked at him considering, then turned to T’Pher. “Healer, Talik is already on Vulcan, and the ship will be leaving orbit soon. You should prepare to beam down.”

 

She lowered her eyes, accepting his curt dismissal. “As you wish, S’haile.” She left the room to collect her few possessions from her quarters.

 

Soran shook his head. “This has the potential to work against you.”

 

“Have you surmised my intention then?”

 

“I believe you intend to return her to Terra in order to recreate the past.”

 

“If need be. I have several weeks to help her recover her memories until then.”

 

“It is risky.”

 

Sarek glanced at his friend. “You think so?”

 

“Indeed. You are not the same man you were then, nor is she the same woman, and the circumstances are not the same. To expect the same result is…”

 

Sarek nodded. “Understood.” He glanced briefly toward his son, then back to Soran. “You are beaming down?”

 

“Yes. I can most assist Vulcan’s investigation into the attack. I shall inform you of any findings immediately, of course.”

 

“Of course. I shall accompany you to the planet. I must gather some items for Amanda.” They started for the door when Amanda called out for Silek. Sarek paused, looking to Spock who remained watching them. “That is you, my son,” Sarek reminded him, bringing Spock out of his reverie. 

 

Spock nodded, took a deep breath, then headed in to tend to his mother.

 

~~**~~

 

T’Pher entered the transporter room and paused. Her eyebrow rose slowly upon seeing McCoy behind the controls. “Is this typically a part of your ship duties?”

 

“Nope. Just for you.”

 

She nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Then I am honored.”

 

He came around the console to stand before her. “I wanted to say good-bye to you in private.”

 

“I am pleased you made such an effort.”

 

McCoy shuffled his feet restlessly. He cleared his throat. “I was sorta hoping you’d be staying with the ship ‘til it reached Earth.”

 

“I must remain with Talik. He is a member of our staff, and until his recovery is predicted, and his future with us decided, then he must remain under my care.”

 

“I understand,” he leaned forward conspiringly, “but I don’t hav‘ta like it.”

 

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “No.” She said after a moment of consideration. “You do not.”

 

McCoy shook his head, smiling. “Listen,” he licked his lips nervously, suddenly serious, “about last night… I, uh…” He sighed loudly. “I wish we had more time together, because last night was…”

 

“Pleasant,” she offered.

 

He smiled gratefully. “Yeah, and special.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

“And, uh… I don’t know how you, you know… what you want… You know how to reach me, right? I’ll be here.”

 

“Yes.” Then, added almost as an afterthought, “and you as well can reach me through the embassy.”

 

“Is that what you want? For me to communicate with you?”

 

“If that is your wish.”

 

McCoy ran his hand threw his hair in frustration. “All right, let’s put it this way. Is there anyone who would object to us communicating?”

 

T’Pher’s brow wrinkled in confusion for a brief moment. “I believe I understand your meaning. If there were a person who would object to my… affiliations… then I should think, after last night, our communications would be the least of his objections.”

 

He felt the blush crawl over his cheeks and was helpless to stop it. “Yeah, all right. That’s good to hear.”

 

“I really must take my leave now, McCoy. My patient awaits.”

 

“Okay.” He turned towards the console, then turned back before she could climb the transporter steps. “You do realize McCoy is my last name, right?”

 

She hesitated, then turned back to him. “Is it inappropriate that I call you by such?”

 

“Well, it’s just a human custom that when two people get to know each other well that they call each other by their first name. Leonard, remember?”

 

She nodded knowingly. “Yes, I also have a familiar name that is occasionally used by my family.” She came closer to him. “It is a secret, of sorts. Only to be used in private, never before others who do not already know.” She leaned close and whispered it into his ear.

 

McCoy’s lips moved silently as he tried out the name. He noticed her watching him and grinned self-consciously. “Well, McCoy works just as fine, really.”

 

She nodded, her eyes alight with humor. “Understood, McCoy.” She climbed the steps and took her place on the pad. “Live long and prosper,” she said, saluting him with the Vulcan ta’al.

 

Leonard gave a human wave in return. “Back at ya, Darlin’.” He energized the transporter beam, sending her down to her planet.

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek rematerialized in the transporter room ignoring the technician's puzzled look as he exited the room pulling an antigrav unit behind him containing several bags and other larger artifacts from their home. 

 

He had just entered his quarters when the door chime buzzed. He turned toward the door and beckoned his visitor's entrance. The door slid open revealing his son and Dr. McCoy, who immediately entered. 

 

"Amanda?"

 

"Is fine," McCoy assured him. "Actually, that's why we needed to speak to you." 

 

Sarek turned questioning eyes to his son. 

 

"Mother is stable and quite vocal regarding her displeasure of remaining in sickbay." 

 

"I think she's in good enough shape to stay in some quarters, although I'd want her resting and quiet as much as possible, but she might rest better with some privacy. We're gonna want to keep an eye on her too, watch for symptoms that might indicate a worsening brain condition and whatnot." 

 

Sarek glanced from Spock to McCoy then back again as both men fell silent. "This is… fortunate news, Doctor. Thank you for informing me; however, I fail to see why this required a personal visit… by both of you." His curiosity was piqued further by the silent look they exchanged. 

 

"We were uncertain of…" Spock hesitated. "We need to know your preference for…" 

 

"Where should we put her?" McCoy blurted out. 

 

"Put her," Sarek parroted. 

 

Spock spotted the antigrav unit, and walked over to pick up a small stone sehlat, a toy he had received on his first birthday from his mother who, despite Sarek's objections, threw him a birthday party every year until he was five years old... When he personally had objected to the illogical act with all the drama and lack of tact a young Vulcan child could muster. That was the first time he had made his mother cry. "We could place her in this suite with you, if she does not object," Spock explained, trading the sehlat for a bottle of sand art, a gift he'd made for Amanda which he'd presented to her just days after his fifth birthday, on his knees, begging her forgiveness for making her cry which Sarek had privately, and strenuously, impressed upon him was worse than any other crime Spock's young mind could fathom. "Or in her own quarters nearby, although you are both rather isolated here on D deck as there are no other guests on board. Or we can move you each to your own quarters on C deck near the officer's quarters." 

 

Sarek nodded thoughtfully, then looked to the doctor. 

 

"Medically speaking," McCoy answered the ambassador's unspoken question, "I don't see any advantage either way. Although, that said… I know which I'd choose if I were you." 

 

Sarek gave a decisive nod. "I believe our… isolation would better ensure Amanda opportunity for privacy and rest, and I could observe her much better if we share common areas in our living space." 

 

Spock put down the art. "And if she refuses?" 

 

"Ensure that she does not." 

 

"Ensure it?" 

 

"She will listen to you. I have preparations to make here before she arrives--" 

 

"Ensure it how?" 

 

Sarek glared disapprovingly at Spock's interruption. "She will listen to you, Silek," he stressed. "I ask you carry out this task in my stead, Spock. If it is beyond your abilities-"

 

"I will do it," Spock quickly assured him, still having no idea how he would pull it off. 

 

Sarek straightened, nodding appreciatively to his son. "Very well then. I require only… twenty Standard minutes to prepare her room." 

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek was in Amanda's bedroom when he heard the swoosh of the suite doors open. He closed his eyes, waiting for the familiar brush of his wife's essence through their bond indicating her nearness, but the bond was too weak. Hanging up the last of her garments he'd brought with him from home, he closed the closet and headed out to greet her. 

 

“I don’t understand why I can’t stay with you?” Amanda asked, taking in her new surroundings. 

 

“I explained the physician is permitting your leaving sickbay only if you are under supervision, and I am staying in crew quarters which are too small.”

 

“I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

 

Spock’s choked on his response when Amanda picked up the toy sehlat, examining it in her hands.

 

She glanced up at him. “Silek?”

 

“No couch,” Spock replied, swallowing his disappointment at her lack of recognition.

 

“I could just sign out against medical advice,” she suggested. “Did you know that’s an option on Earth?”

 

“It is illogical to risk your health over a minor inconvenience, Amanda.” Sarek stepped forward from the bedroom threshold after listening to their exchange. 

 

Amanda quickly replaced the sehlat, embarrassed to be caught handling embassy property. “I’m afraid the inconvenience is more yours than mine, Ambassador. And I’m sure it’s not minor.” She bowed slightly at the waist. “Your service honors me.”

 

Sarek frowned slightly. “The honor is mine,” he mumbled obligingly. The silence grew as he watched his wife avoid eye contact. The awkwardness was not lost on him. “Your belongings have been moved into your room.”

 

Amanda perked up at this news. “I have belongings? How wonderful!” She gestured to the room behind him. “In there?”

 

Nodding, he stepped aside, gesturing that she should go in. 

 

“She is here, as promised,” Spock said, coming alongside his father. 

 

“Indeed, well done, my son.”

 

“She expresses… reservations about the arrangement.”

 

“I heard. No matter. Since she has acquiesced to stay here, the issue is settled.” Sarek began walking his son to the door.

 

“What if she changes her mind?” Spock asked.

 

“Why should she?”

 

Spock tipped his head in a shrug. “Human women need little provocation for such things.”

 

“I know about Human women,” Sarek insisted. “I am confident any concerns that may arise can be alleviated.”

 

“As you wish.” As the cabin door opened, Spock stepped across the threshold then turned back to face his father. “The captain has invited you and mother to dine with the officers this evening.”

 

“I do not think that wise--“

 

“It will be private, only a select few who have all been appraised of the… situation, and will participate.”

 

Sarek glanced toward his wife’s room, undecided.

 

“McCoy has given his approval.”

 

“Very well,” Sarek conceded. “If she is amendable to the idea, we accept.”

 

~~**~~

 

“T’Pau has authorized the release of a small fighter and skeleton crew. I shall accompany them to the neutral zone.” Soran’s disembodied voice floated into the common room. 

 

Sarek sat at the desk, fingers steepled in contemplation. “It is dangerous,” he warned.

 

“Perhaps, but there has been no intelligence within Federation space, and since she was located within the Neutral Zone it seems a logical place to start.”

 

“Logical, yes, but dangerous nevertheless, k’war’ma’khon.”

 

“I will ascertain who did this, and how,” Soran vowed, then, ever cognizant of potential emotionalism, quickly changed the subject. “Any changes with Amanda?”

 

“No,” Sarek gratefully accepted the subject change. “Talik?” 

 

“The same.” 

 

Amanda emerged from her bedroom, hesitating to pass upon seeing the ambassador on a call. Sarek motioned for her to continue.

 

“Hafau shar,” Sarek bid his friend, offering him a brief ta’al then cut the connection. He spun the chair to observe his wife more closely. “Have you been crying?”

 

Amanda stopped in midstep. “No!”

 

The increased periorbital edema and erythema contradicted her words. “Can I be of assistance?”

 

“I would like to freshen up, please.” She crossed her arms across her chest; his intense scrutiny was making her uncomfortable.

 

Sarek relented. “Through there,” he said, gesturing toward the lavatory door. He continued to stare her way even after the door closed behind her until he recalled their son’s invitation. “Amanda,” he called out, catching himself from walking into the bathroom to speak with her, as he typically would. There was no response, and he wondered if he would need to call out louder.

 

“Yes?”

 

“We must discuss plans for end meal this evening.” Again he was puzzled by the long silence. 

 

“Can we… um… discuss it when I’m… not in here?”

 

“Certainly,” he agreed amicably, then turned back to his view screen to read news feeds while he waited. 

 

Amanda emerged from the bathroom a short time later, looking slightly more refreshed. “You wanted to discuss something?”

 

“Indeed,” Sarek said, still focused on his feeds. “The captain has invited us to dine with the crew officers this evening. Do you wish to accept?”

 

“Oh,” Amanda paced behind him, wringing her hands. “Well, I’m sure it was an embassy invitation, Ambassador.”

 

Sarek turned his chair to observe her. “The invitation was for both of us. If you are too fatigued I can decline.”

 

“No! Oh, no. You should definitely go. I think… I’ll just grab a quick bite with Silek. Probably call it an early night.”

 

“Silek will be in attendance tonight.” He cocked his head, studying her.

 

“Oh.” She glanced down at her clothes, then toward her bedroom. “When is dinner?”

 

“Twenty hundred hours, ship’s time.”

 

“What time is it now?”

 

Sarek consulted his inner clock. “Approximately 1642 hours and 39 seconds.”

 

Amanda chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I’ve never attended an officer’s dinner before.”

 

“It is no different than an embassy function,” he saw her brow furrow, “or a university function,” he corrected.

 

Amanda nodded. “All right. Shall I meet you here and we can walk down together?”

 

“An excellent suggestion,” he said, frowning as she headed toward the door. “Where are you going?”

 

“There must be someplace to shop on this ship, don’t you think?”

 

“There is,” Sarek confirmed. “On E deck.”

 

“Great! See you later!”

 

“Do you—“ he began but the suite doors cut off his words. She was gone.

 

~~**~~

 

“Come on,” Amanda hissed, punching her credit ID and pressing her finger against the screen scanner. It, again, came up ID NOT FOUND. Amanda slapped the machine.

 

“Ah, lassie, donna be abusin’ me ship,” Scotty playfully teased the ambassador’s wife.

 

“Oh,” Amanda blushed. “Well, your ship isn’t being very nice to me, Mr…”

 

“Scott,” he reminded her kindly. “Montgomery Scott. I’m th’ chief engineer on th’ Enterprise.”

 

“Well, Mr. Scott, I have this fancy dinner I’m supposed to attend in just a few hours and I have absolutely nothing to wear.”

 

“Well, we canna’ have that, can we?” Scotty stepped up to the merchandise replicator. 

 

“Amanda Grayson, 06825684,” she provided her information, leaning against the wall and watching the engineer closely. 

 

“Place your index finger on th’ screen, please.” She held her hand out to him, causing him to have to take her hand in his, and place her finger against the screen. He was uncomfortably aware of her close scrutiny. 

 

ID NOT FOUND

 

“See?” Amanda said, pouting playfully.

 

“Let me hav’ another go,” he suggested and tried looking up Ambassador Sarek’s information. He placed her finger against the screen and was rewarded by a purchase confirmation screen.

 

“Ah! Mr. Scott, you did it!” Amanda clapped her hands together then stepped up to confirm the replicator was working on her purchase. “My hero,” she purred playfully.

 

“Aye, well, thare ye go, ma’am.” 

 

“Ma’am?” Amanda exclaimed. “That makes me feel so,” she had brushed her hand against her hair, feeling the huge gray mass, “old,” she finished meekly. The replicator finished her purchase, and spit out a bank receipt. Amanda grabbed it, absently glancing at her balance. “Oh…oh no. This can’t be right.”

 

Scotty shook his head. “No ma’am. It must be correct, yer finger ID was confirmed.”

 

Amanda pressed her fingers against her temple. “It can’t be. I’m a teacher…”

 

“Well, ye work for th’ embassy too. I suppose Vulcans must pay thair people well,” he rationalized, hoping she wouldn’t look into the matter too deeply.

 

“I work for the Vulcan embassy?”

 

Scotty shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t ye?” He reviewed everything Spock had ever told him about his parents. “Aye, I’m quite certain ye did—do,” he corrected quickly.

 

Amanda’s jaw dropped. She slapped her hand against her forehead. “Oh my god, that makes so much sense!” 

 

“Does it, now?”

 

“Yes! That explains why the ambassador and I are on the same ship, why I’m staying in embassy quarters, and frankly, why I’m in space at all! Oh, Mr. Scott,” she grasped his face between her hands, “you truly are my hero.”

 

“Thank ye,” he mumbled, wondering if he had made a grievous error.

 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have so much to do to get ready.” She grabbed her package and raced from the room.

 

**~~**

 

Sarek heard the suite doors open, and quickly completed the final check of his appearance, then strode from his bedroom to hurry his wife along. “You must make haste, Amanda,” he called out to be heard through her bedroom door. “By my estimates we must leave within the next one point eight minutes to arrive on time.”

 

“A couple minutes late is no big deal,” she called back. 

 

Sarek’s eyebrow rose indignantly. “Unacceptable,” he reminded her.

 

“Then we’ll walk extra fast!”

 

He could hear the frustration in her tone. “Also unacceptable,” he murmured, not wishing to exacerbate her further. He sighed softly, remembering how long it had taken to train his wife to never be late or in a hurry. It was un-Vulcan. 

 

He busied himself with checking for any further updates from Soran, his internal clock loudly chiming the passing of every second. 

 

“There’s no full length mirrors,” Amanda complained as she exited her bedroom. 

 

“I am certain your appearance--“ Sarek stared at her dumbstruck. “What did you do?” It wasn’t the baggy silky blue pants suit that showed a small sliver of her midriff but dipped precariously low between her breasts and off her shoulders, although that certainly caught his eye. It was her hair. Gone were the flowing locks of silver he’d spent hours brushing over the course of their marriage, and instead soft brown curls framed her face, resting just above her bare shoulders. “Amanda, what did you do?”

 

Amanda ran her hands over her hair self-consciously. “I just… had it cut, and colored, obviously. I wanted it to look more like it used to.” She glanced in the small mirror hanging on the common room wall. “What’s wrong with it?”

 

“There is nothing wrong,” Sarek relented, overcoming his initial shock. He allowed his eyes to roam down her figure. “You went shopping today.”

 

“Do you like it?” She twirled a bit. “I thought the color was just divine, although now that I’m wearing it, I’m not sure I still have the body to pull it off.” She stretched and dipped, trying to use the small mirror to see all of her. 

 

“You do.” Sarek clasped his hands together at his waist, tightly. “Is there something wrong with the clothes you already have?”

 

“I don’t like them,” she said simply, crinkling her nose at him in the mirror. “They’re not my style.”

 

“That is illogical, Amanda, they must be your style since you chose them when you bought them.”

 

Amanda sighed. “Well, I certainly won’t argue logic with you, Ambassador. All I can say is I just don’t like them. They’re so… super conservative and rather plain.” 

 

“But they are typically what you wear,” he reiterated stubbornly.

 

Amanda chewed her lower lip, recalling her conversation with the handsome engineer earlier that day. “Does this outfit break any sort of… dress code? Like… an embassy dress code?”

 

Sarek frowned slightly. “No, there is no dress code.”

 

“Are you sure? Because… you’re the boss, right?” she fished.

 

Sarek sighed softly. “You generally don’t seem to think so. Amanda, we are definitely late.”

 

“Right, sorry. Let’s go.” She glanced sidelong at him as they walked out. “And don’t worry, you can blame me for making us late.”

 

“I was already planning to,” Sarek quipped, earning a hearty laugh from his companion.

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek held a chair for Amanda, then took the one beside her. After an initial period of silence, no doubt as everyone took in the changes to Spock’s mother, conversation renewed.

 

“It is 2004,” Spock needled his father from across the table. 

 

Amanda cleared her throat nervously. “Sorry, about that--“

 

“It was unavoidable,” Sarek interrupted, busying himself with the salad that had been placed before him and ignoring his wife’s look of surprise. Amanda glanced around, noting everyone seemed satisfied with Sarek’s curt excuse as they all busied themselves with their plates and quiet conversations. 

 

“So how’s retirement treating you, Sarek?” Jim Kirk asked from the head of the table.

 

“Retirement, Captain?”

 

Jim looked up from buttering a roll. “Yes, I… quite distinctly recall you stating you had retired your position as an ambassador… before.”

 

Sarek followed Kirk’s gaze to his wife. “Quite right, Captain. I had retired my position, but then I reinstated it.”

 

“You don’t say,” Jim replied drolly. 

 

“Indeed. It was logical as my… reason for choosing retirement… resolved itself.”

 

The human shook his head. “That must be the shortest retirement in history.”

 

Sarek frowned thoughtfully. “Unknown at this time, Captain. I do not possess the data to compare.”

 

Amanda bit her lip to keep from laughing, pleased to note several other humans present found Vulcan literal-mindedness to be as amusing as she did. She spotted the engineer a couple seats down. “Mr. Scott! How nice to see you again! You didn’t mention you were going to be here.”

 

Scotty paused, fork midway to his mouth. He slowly lowered it, avoiding the curious stares of the non-Humans. “Aye. I guess I didnea realize this is what ye meant by fancy dinner, ma’am.”

 

“You remember Mr. Scott?” Spock asked her hopefully.

 

“I met him when I was shopping. I was having a dreadful time trying to buy anything, and Mr. Scott here was smart enough to figure out my account was under listed under my employer information.”

 

Scotty busied himself with his plate.

 

“Employer, Mr. Scott?” Spock asked.

 

“Aye, sair.” He cleared his throat nervously. “Ye know, her account listed under the… Ambassador.”

 

“You told her she was employed by me,” Sarek clarified.

 

“Oh, I know it probably breaks this horrific ‘don’t tell Amanda anything about her life’ rule,” Amanda defended the Scotsman, “but, honestly, it feels so good to finally have something make sense right now.”

 

“Does it makes sense?” Sarek asked, putting down his fork and turning toward her.

 

Amanda shrugged. “I think so. The other night at dinner we were talking about the universal translator project.”

 

“The other night?” Spock asked.

 

“The other night to me, Silek, by my memory.” She turned back to the ambassador. “You were asking us if we would be interested in teaming up to work on Vulcan’s contributions.” She turned back to Spock. “I didn’t think you seemed interested, but apparently I was wrong.” She glanced back and forth between the two Vulcans. “Am I right?”

 

Sarek tilted his head, contemplating. “You did work on the translator for the embassy,” he confirmed.

 

Amanda beamed at him. “Well there you go! And the world didn’t end, and I didn’t crumble into a puddle of psychosis. I really think everyone is overreacting with this silly amnesia stuff.”

 

“Baby steps,” McCoy cautioned. “Give yourself time.”

 

She was saved from answering when the wait staff brought large bowls teeming with pasta, sauces, and meatballs out to the table, setting them in the center. 

 

“I hope no one minds family style,” Captain Kirk commented as he piled a plate high with pasta. “This was a rather quickly thrown together affair.”

 

“It smells divine,” Amanda complimented. 

 

“Here, Mrs… Amanda,” McCoy corrected, “allow me.” He took her plate and began filling it with food. 

 

“Oh, that’s way too much,” Amanda protested.

 

“Nonsense,” McCoy dismissed. “You’re recuperating.”

 

“Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food,” Sarek quoted, watching the doctor place more food than his wife could possibly eat upon her plate.

 

“Amen, Ambassador,” McCoy said, scooping on some sauce and placing the plate before his patient. 

 

“Hippocrates,” Amanda commented, taking an appreciative smell of her dinner. “Would you kindly pass me some protein, Doctor?”

 

McCoy picked up a plate of meatballs and held them out for her to pick from. Amanda placed two upon her plate, oblivious to the attention she was receiving. She cut into the sphere eagerly.

 

“Don’t!” Spock called out, startling everyone.

 

Amanda put her fork down, examining her dish. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

 

“It is flesh,” he pointed out.

 

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Well, thank you Professor Obvious. I know what it is.”

 

Spock looked to his father for help. “Say something.”

 

Sarek looked at his wife’s plate with dismay. “Most Terrans eat flesh,” he pointed out. “We are not unaccustomed to this habit.”

 

“It could make her sick.” Spock looked at his mother. “You have been a vegetarian for many, many years.”

 

“Silek,” Sarek’s warning tone was drowned out by Amanda’s robust laughter.

 

“Yeah, right!” She shook her head good naturedly and plunked the piece of meatball into her mouth.

 

“Is it safe?” Sarek asked McCoy. 

 

“Well,” Bones rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “A meatball or two probably won’t bother her, but I’d advise against downing a steak.”

 

“Wait, are you serious?” Amanda asked.

 

Sarek nodded, reaching for a flask of wine and pouring himself and his wife each a helping. 

 

Amanda rubbed her temple. “Why? Why would I do that?”

 

Sarek busied himself with his pasta. 

 

“Silek, why would I become a vegetarian?”

 

Spock sighed softly. “I suppose perhaps you came to the realization murdering defenseless animals simply as a source of protein which could be obtained through other means was illogical and unethical.”

 

“No offense taken,” Kirk muttered at the end of the table.

 

“I think it more likely she simply found it easier to abstain from meat given her… environment,” Sarek supplied.

 

“My environment,” Amanda continued rubbing her temple while she mused over this new information. “My environment… at the embassy?”

 

“You did spend a majority of your time in the company of Vulcans.” Sarek looked around the table at their companions. “Mr. Scott, Silek informs me you were recently commended for advancing the current use of dilithium crystals to obtain a greater degree of energy than we currently do.”

 

“Aye, sair,” Scotty said uncertainly.

 

“I would be interested in hearing how you made this discovery.” Sarek assumed a façade of polite interest, but he did not miss his wife’s inattention, nor how she no longer touched her plate. He also noticed the constant rubbing of her temples.

 

~~**~~

 

“Got ya!” Amanda quietly exclaimed, coming up behind Spock as he worked over one of his projects in the lab.

 

Spock was nearly startled, but caught himself. He’d heard someone walking behind him, of course, but never has a crewmember announced themselves thusly, or so closely. “How did you get in here?” These labs were accessible by authorized personnel only. 

 

Amanda frowned at his less than enthusiastic greeting. “The nice blonde nurse led me to you.”

 

Spock glanced toward the doorway to find Nurse Chapel leaning against the jamb, watching their interaction with interest. She quickly departed upon being caught.

 

“You play a mean game of hide and seek, you know.” Amanda slid gingerly onto a stool next to his.

 

“I am not hiding.”

 

“No?” She looked curiously at the scientific equipment he had before him. “Then has it become your custom to stand me up? Repeatedly? It’s been almost a week!”

 

Spock shook his head. “I apologize.” He had, in fact, done just that, but only because it was the only way they seemed to be able to get her to spend time alone with his father, which was something his father seemed to believe was imperative to her recovery. “But you were not alone. Sarek dined with you, did he not?”

 

“Yes,” she sighed. “He did.”

 

Spock frowned, trying to categorize her tone. He could not place it. 

 

“This looks like some serious science.” She gestured toward his experiment.

 

Spock eyed his work and nodded. “It seemed a better use of my time than unserious science,” he joked. She smiled and playfully slapped his leg. 

 

“You don’t know squat about science. Remember that time when you were covering the chem lab for Johnson and had that minor explosion.” She laughed heartedly.

 

Spock watched the years melt away as she reminisced. By both his parents accounts she and his uncle had been very good friends, and yet Silek never visited them during his entire childhood. Now he wondered why. 

 

“So, really, what are you doing with all this stuff?”

 

“I am ‘doing’ science,” Spock insisted. “Don’t forget it is not unusual for a Vulcan to have several careers over their lifetime.”

 

“Right. I think I recall something about that.” She watched him speculatively. “So are you ever going to have dinner with me again?”

 

“Of course,” Spock relented. “I require a few more hours to reach a stopping point in this project, then we can eat if that is acceptable.”

 

Amanda beamed at him. “Sounds perfect.”

 

“I will contact Sarek when I have a firm completion time.” Amanda emitted that same incomprehensible sigh. “You… do not wish for Sarek to join us?”

 

“He doesn’t have to join us every time, does he?”

 

“No.” Spock made some minor adjustment to his experiment. “I was… unaware you find his presence… objectionable.” He glanced her way; she was staring resolutely at her hands in her lap. “May I ask why?”

 

“I wouldn’t say objectionable,” she clarified, “and I know he’s your brother.”

 

“A fact which should not affect your ability to express yourself,” he reassured her.

 

“It’s just… he’s… odd.”

 

Spock turned his attention solely on her. “Specify.”

 

“He’s very… touchy feely.” She grimaced, stealing a glance to see how Silek reacted.

 

Spock’s eyebrows shot upward. 

 

“To my memory he was quite reserved and distant. I don’t remember him being so… physical.”

 

“Me neither,” Spock murmured, busing himself with his work. “Is he… inappropriate?”

 

Amanda hesitated. “By human or Vulcan standards?” She waved off his puzzled expression. “I don’t know. Probably not, although I thought there was something about Vulcans not holding hands or invading personal space, especially unmarried men and women.”

 

Spock sighed softly. “He is making you uncomfortable,” he surmised. “I will speak with him.”

 

“No! Oh God no, don’t say a word. I’d be mortified.”

 

Spock nodded, but knew he could not avoid what he was certain would be the most awkward conversation between himself and his father to date. “If it makes any difference, I am quite certain he is merely trying to be friendly.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure he is. And maybe if I had my memory it wouldn’t seem so odd, but…” Amanda swallowed hard. “He gave me a bush,” she blurted out.

 

Spock froze. “Is that a euphemism?”

 

“No,” Amanda whispered furtively. “He literally gave me a bush. A rose bush… like… with roots and everything.”

 

Spock struggled to keep a neutral face. “You like roses,” he reminded her.

 

“I know, but… I’m on a spaceship… what the hell am I supposed to do with a bush?”

 

“Plants are valued on Vulcan. He was being generous.”

 

“Ugh!” Amanda buried her face in her hands. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I’m a horrible person.”

 

“I would not go as far to say that,” Spock soothed.

 

Amanda slid off her stool. “I’m going to let you finish your work and… go contemplate my many faults.” She placed her hand upon his shoulders and placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek. “See you at dinner.”

 

Spock watched her leave, then turned back to his work with a bemused shake of his head. He worked for several minutes before he paused as he realized his mother, in theory, just kissed his uncle. 

 

~~**~~

 

The suite doors, left unlocked by Vulcan custom, slid open bringing Sarek out of his meditation. “Spock,” he greeted his son, rising from his position in front of the asenoi and also signifying to his son that his mother was not present.

 

“I did not intend to intrude,” Spock said, apologizing upon seeing Sarek’s attire.

 

“No matter. How may I be of service?” Sarek went to the small bar area in the common room and poured a glass of k’vass for himself and his son.

 

Spock accepted his glass with a grateful nod. “There is a matter that has come to my attention. It is of a personal nature,” he warned. “I normally would never speak of it, however, I am… concerned if I do not, it could hinder your… plan with Mother.”

 

Sarek brow slowly rose. “Indeed?” He took a long swallow of his drink. “Then, by all means, speak.”

 

Spock took a deep breath. “Earlier today, Mother mention to me… more precisely to your brother… that when you are alone with her you are, at times, a bit… forward.”

 

Sarek stared at him. “Forward?”

 

“Forward,” Spock said decisively. 

 

“Danau.”

 

“It means… you behave in a manner that she, given her knowledge of your relationship, finds to be…” Spock took a swallow of his drink, “more intimate than appropriate.” He could tell his father was reviewing all his encounters with his mother since she awoke. “Ken’tor?”

 

“Negative,” Sarek murmured. “In what way?”

 

“She said you,” Spock searched for the right words, as ‘touchy feely’ would make no sense to his father, “invade her personal space, sometimes, and… touch her in a way she finds… discomforting. She was not specific,” he quickly clarified.

 

Sarek put down his glass and crossed his hands, covering them in the depths of his large robe sleeves. “I see.”

 

“She acknowledges you are merely being friendly,” Spock said, trying to comfort him. “She specifically asked me not to mention it to you.” Sarek seemed not to hear him. “It is understandable that you would find it… difficult to have her physically near but mentally distant. Any Vulcan would.”

 

“Touch is essential to cause, in the human, production of various hormones that are perceived as the emotion of love,” Sarek explained absently. “But only if it is a positive experience.”

 

“I thought it important to make you aware lest her discomfort make her become more distant.”

 

“Of course,” Sarek slowly agreed. “Th’I’oxalra,” he thanked his son.

 

“She just needs more time… She is dealing with many changes…”

 

Sarek nodded. “I understand, Spock. I will be more cognizant of my behavior in her presence.”

 

The suite doors opened admitting Amanda and ending the Vulcans’ conversation.

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek sat at his desk reviewing the files they had developed during their search for the shuttle and comparing it with what information Soran had provided since he left Vulcan. It had thus far remained inconclusive. He heard his wife’s laughter from the corridor outside, followed by some soft utterance in a Scottish burr. Since his conversation with Spock several days ago Sarek had made a concentrated effort to avoid touching his wife, and he had noticed she now spent more time in their common area in his presence. However, Amanda had also been spending a significant amount of time in the company of the Terran engineer, a fact that did not sit well with him, but one which he was currently helpless to change. Amanda had found a friend, and he could not deny her that. Spock assured him this man was trustworthy, and not one to take advantage of his wife’s amnesic state. 

 

The suite doors slid open as the couple stepped in front of it. Having not seen her before she left, Sarek noted she was wearing yet another new outfit which showed an excessive amount of skin. Such outfits, he recalled, were enough to drive a young Vulcan to distraction even before she had become his bondmate.

 

“Goodnight, lass.” Scotty moved to step past Amanda but she reached out to take his hand.

 

“Good night, Monty.” She leaned forward, tilting her head up, her eyes closed expectedly.

 

Sarek watched, his gut clenching painfully. The human’s eyes widened in surprise, and he glanced around furtively before planting a quick peck upon Amanda’s forehead. He muttered a firm, “Goodnight,” then made a hasty retreat down the corridor. Sarek watched Amanda stare after him for some time before shaking her head and turning to enter their suite. Sarek feigned interest in his work.

 

“Ambassador,” she greeted him pleasantly.

 

“Sarek,” he reminded her. 

 

“Right, sorry.” She kicked off her shoes over by her bedroom doorway then sat upon the small loveseat in the common room picking up her personal padd to continue reading the novel she had left off at earlier that day. 

 

“Did you have a pleasant evening?” Sarek ventured.

 

“Hmm, yes, I did. Thank you for asking.” Bored with her reading, she put her padd aside and pulled the small view screen beside her closer to check it out. 

 

“You… seem to enjoy spending time in the company of the chief engineer.”

 

“He’s very nice,” she commented, pressing and prodding at the device. “And it’s not like your brother has been available lately. Is this broken?”

 

“No.” Sarek left his desk and joined her on the sofa, reaching around her to turn on the view screen. “This controls the power. Once on, swipe from the top down to open a menu screen.”

 

“Ah, thanks.” She began to play with the options. 

 

“I can speak with Silek, if you’d like.”

 

“What?” she asked distractedly. “No, it’s fine. You know how he gets when he’s working. You’d think he’d at least answer my messages though.” 

 

Sarek watched her scan through movie titles, passing by some he knew were her favorites, or by Amanda’s recall, would be in her future. “I… would be willing to take my brother’s place. What activities shall we do?”

 

Amanda glanced at him briefly. “That’s very kind, Sarek, but I couldn’t impose on you like that. I’m fine, really.”

 

“It is no imposition, Amanda.” 

 

She turned to better face him, wondering why he was sitting so close. “There is something I wanted to discuss with you though.” He indicated she should continue. “Well, I think – since it’s been established that I work for you – that I should... you know… work for you.”

 

“I see.” Sarek allowed his arm to rest against the back of the sofa, behind her, to gauge her reaction to him. Her gaze travelled to his arm but she made no mention of it, nor did she move away. “In what capacity do you wish to work?”

 

Amanda shrugged. “What capacity have I been working in? I assume I’m not still working on the translator after all these years. I guess I assumed I’m an aide of some sort.”

 

“You should be concentrating on your recovery, should you not?”

 

“What’s to concentrate on? My memory will return or it won’t. Either way I need a job.”

 

Sarek shifted a little closer. This time she leaned away slightly. He stopped. “Your… skills to act in your previous position were dependent on years of training and experience, which you currently do not possess.”

 

Amanda stabbed him with her stare. “Are you going to fire me?”

 

“I did not say that. However, to expect that you could step back immediately into your previous… life… is unrealistic, I think.”

 

Amanda sighed. “What can I do about it? No one is allowed to tell me things I’m forgetting. It’s not like I don’t want to remember.” 

 

“Understood, Amanda.”

 

“And frankly, Ambassador--“

 

“Sarek,” he patiently reminded her.

 

“I’m bored. There’s nothing to do here but shop and eat. I’d like something to occupy my time.”

 

“Speaking of shopping,” Sarek said, “you have spent a significant number of credits in the relatively short amount of time you’ve been on board.”

 

Amanda shrugged again. “I need new clothes. It’s not like I can’t afford it. I’ve plenty in my account.”

 

Sarek nodded grimly. “Perhaps, but I would like to point out such an accumulation has come from years of conservative spending. You should not expect such funds to be easily or quickly replaced at this point in time.” Not untrue, since Amanda retired years ago and Sarek had reduced his work load from full-time ambassador to part time after his heart condition which was resolved on their last voyage on this ship. Not that they needed to be overly concerned about finances, but Vulcans were a long-lived race, and Sarek went into semi-retirement quite early at only one hundred and two years of age.

 

“Oh my god… you are going to fire me!” She covered her mouth with her hands anxiously.

 

Sarek shook his head. “No, Amanda.” He reached for her hand, holding it lightly between his. She stared at their hands, her brow wrinkled with confusion. “Your… position is yours for as long as you desire it. This I vow to you.”

 

“Well, thank you.” She gently extracted her hand from his. “But surely I can be of some help? What did I do for you?”

 

“You are persistent,” he murmured distractedly. “Very well, Amanda. If I were to characterize it, I would say your role at this point consists of… cultural liaison,” he glanced surreptitiously her way to note her utter confusion, “for emotional beings… which most are.”

 

“Oh.” She sat back into the couch, staring at her hands clasped loosely together on her lap. “What does that mean, exactly?”

 

“It means when I have encounters with emotional beings you observe and advise me based on your own perceptions and experiences as a fellow emotional being.”

 

“Oh.” She shrugged her shoulders lightly. “That sounds easy enough. I don’t suppose you are currently… encountering an emotional species?”

 

“Not at this time.”

 

She nodded, thinking. “It… uh… doesn’t really sound like full time employment, does it?”

 

Sarek sighed softly. “You… also have done a considerable amount of translation work over the years. Some projects for academia, but you also published several books translating ancient Vulcan writings into Federation languages.”

 

“I’ve published books?” she asked wondrously. At his nod she grinned broadly. “That’s exciting!”

 

“You seem to enjoy it.”

 

She turned her body back toward him and lay her head against the back of the couch. “Sarek,” she watched him intently. A slightly lift of his eyebrow indicated his attention. “Thank you. For telling me. It means a lot to me.”

 

“You are most welcome, Amanda.”

 

She sighed. “Would you like to watch a vid with me?”

 

Sarek permitted a slight lift to his lips, the smile he reserved only for his wife. “Very much.”

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek’s attention was drawn from the view screen to his wife as her head finally fell backward as sleep overtook her. The second movie had just begun, but she’d been fighting exhaustion since halfway through the first. He gently pulled on her until she leaned against him, supporting her head against his shoulder, making her more comfortable. She offered no resistance, and in her slumber turned in his arms, her face nestling against his collarbone, her hand coming to rest on his chest. He vowed not to move a muscle, lest he disrupt this occasion, and returned his attention to the movie.

 

The credits had just begun to roll when he felt her hand slide up to tentatively touch the base of his throat. He looked down to find her watching him, her eyes droopy and hazy with sleep. Her hand touched his jaw, then his cheek. Sarek closed his eyes, relishing the contact. When the hand withdrew he opened his eyes. Her hand was poised in the air, two fingers extended, and mere centimeters from his lips. Sarek slowly raised his own hand, fingers paired in kind, and brushed them lightly against her lips in a Vulcan kiss. She quietly gasped, her brow furrowing. He took her hand in his and guided it around his neck, then leaned down to brush his lips against hers. He slowly withdrew, gauging her reaction. 

 

She pulled her hand away and sat up, turning to face him. Her mouth opened as though to speak, but no words emerged. She leaned forward, her expression still befuddled, but her face upturned. He met her, their lips meeting, first tentatively, then devouring. Her hands encircled his neck, and she rose onto her knees, pressing into him, rubbing against him. 

 

Sarek met her enthusiasm. He encircled her in his arms, holding her close. When she pulled her lips away he moved lower, kissing her neck and shoulder. ‘

 

“Do you hear them?” she whispered reverently. “I hear them.”

 

Sarek looked at her face, her eyes were closed, her head tilted as though listening. “Who, Amanda?”

 

She opened her eyes to look at him, but her gaze remained glassy. She whimpered then pressed herself against him, kissing him.

 

The suite door slid open. “Sarek, I was-- Forgive me,” Spock gushed as his parents sprung apart.

 

“Silek!” Amanda softly exclaimed, her hand covered her swollen lips, her eyes closed in mortification. 

 

Sarek glanced toward the door as his son exited, then reached for his wife again. “We’re alone,” he assured her, his lips seeking.

 

“No,” she murmured, pressing her hands against his shoulders. She moved away from him. “What have we done?” She stood up, frantically smoothing out her hair and clothes. “Oh my god, what have I done?”

 

Sarek stood up to comfort her, but she eluded him. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, moving farther from him. 

 

“Amanda--“

 

“I am so sorry.” She ran from their suite.

 

~~**~~


	4. Chapter 4

Spock absently called out in answer to his door chime, his attention focused on the new data he had been contemplating all evening. 

 

“Silek?” Amanda stepped into the room, tears barely in check, her arms crossed protectively.

 

He jumped up, alarmed with his mother’s emotional display. “What’s wrong?” He took her into his arms, guiding her to his chair, and squatted down beside her, concerned. 

 

“I’m sorry, Silek. I’m so sorry. I swear, nothing happened.”

 

“Nothing-“ Spock grimaced as he realized what she must be referring to. “It’s hardly my business what happens between you and… my brother.”

 

“Nothing happened!” she insisted. “It was just a kiss. I made a mistake, and it won’t happen again.”

 

Spock moved to lean against his desk next to her. “Are you saying you kissed him?”

 

She nodded miserably. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

 

Spock crossed his arms in contemplation. “I don’t understand.”

 

She jumped up from the chair and turned so her back was to him. “I can’t explain it, really. Maybe it was late, and I was tired… I’m human, Silek, sometimes-“

 

“He didn’t seem to be objecting,” Spock pointed out, hoping to end the conversation.

 

Amanda shook her head. “So?”

 

“So,” Spock sighed, recalling when he thought his conversation with his father would be the most awkward of his life. “If you want to kiss him, and he wants you to kiss him-“

 

“No!” She turned back to him, appalled.

 

“No?” Spock started upon realizing this woman before him, red faced and teary eyed, was not his mother but a young human girl who, much like the young crewmen who come aboard fresh out of the academy, was somewhat confused and alarmed by feelings and sensations that were still relatively new. 

 

“He’s your brother. He’s my boss!” She pressed her hand against her chest emphatically. 

 

“Perhaps, but if you are experiencing feelings of…” Spock grimaced. “What did Sarek say about this?”

 

“Sarek?” she asked with disbelief. “I didn’t ask!”

 

“Shouldn’t you? He was involved.”

 

“I don’t think I can ever face him again!” She strode into his bedroom area and flopped down upon his bed. “I’m so embarrassed.”

 

“Embarrassment is illogical,” he reminded her, standing in the doorway watching her. “What do you intend to do?”

 

“I can’t go back there,” she insisted.

 

“That’s not a workable solution.”

 

“Let me stay here.” She came off the bed and approached him, a hand held up to stall his refusal. “Just for tonight. Please, Silek?”

 

Spock looked down into her blue eyes, pleading with him to acquiesce. He nodded.

 

“Thank you,” she sighed and leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder and her arms sliding around his waist loosely.

 

Spock frowned, even as his arms automatically folded around her.

 

~~**~~

 

Spock walked into his father’s suite, pausing while he tried to ascertain Sarek’s location. Almost immediately his father emerged from his bedroom, his eyes quickly bypassing his son to scan the rest of the room. “She’s in my quarters,” Spock informed him. “She plans to stay the night there.”

 

Sarek nodded. “Unfortunate,” he murmured. “Thank you for informing me.” He crossed the room and sat heavily onto the little couch.

 

Spock sat beside him. “That is not why I came, at least, not the only reason. I would like more information about your negotiations on Calder.”

 

“The Calder negotiations were reassigned to another Federation representative after our shuttle went missing,” he said dismissively.

 

“Understood; however, in trying to ascertain a motive I thought, perhaps, disrupting the negotiations on Calder was one.”

 

Sarek nodded thoughtfully, staring straight across the room at nothing. “Did your mother say anything to you about… what occurred here.”

 

Spock sighed softly at the interruption. “She seemed… distressed over what she believes was inappropriate behavior on her part.”

 

Sarek grunted softly. “She didn’t say anything peculiar? Perhaps about something she heard, or maybe even remembered?”

 

Spock replayed the entire episode with his mother in his mind. “Not at all. Did she remember something?”

 

“I’m unsure,” Sarek murmured softly. “She said something about ‘hearing them.’ I heard nothing, so I thought perhaps…” He trailed off, lost in thought. 

 

“How did she explain her comment?”

 

“I did not get a chance to ask her.”

 

This time Spock grunted as he watched his father’s profile. “Yes, well… you did appear preoccupied with activities other than conversing.” Sarek’s gaze snapped to him, which was the reaction he was hoping for. Spock raised an eyebrow to punctuate his barb. 

 

Sarek placed his fingers, tented, against the side of Spock’s face and gently pushed his head away. It was a Vulcan gesture, typically done among close family or friends, meaning ‘keep your mind from mine,’ or to loosely translate into Terran, ‘stop being an idiot.’ It was an affectionate gesture, and the glint in his father’s eye confirmed he understood Spock’s jest.

 

“You were asking about Calder,” Sarek reminded him.

 

“Calder, or I believe you said you were on Zavijava previous to heading to Calder. Was there anything of particular importance that could be associated with the shuttle’s attack?”

 

“Zavijava was quite routine. Trade agreements with Vulcan were renewed several weeks ago, but their government subsequently became upset over perceived misrepresentations on our side. I was sent to simply calm them. It took longer than I had expected, but otherwise was uneventful. Calder, however, was more tenuous, which is why when it appeared we might miss our planned meeting I sent my aides and your mother ahead of me.” His face darkened. “Bondmates should stay together. My error…”

 

“Tell me about Calder,” Spock redirected him.

 

Sarek took a deep breath. “I was going to Calder on behalf of the Federation. We are seeking to have them join us; they continue to withhold. We have had trade agreements with them for nearly a decade without difficulties. Currently, according to Calder, they have begun trading with Romulus, and at a more lucrative agreement than ours. They seek to renegotiate our terms. More importantly, we are concerned they may consider joining with Romulus.”

 

“In that case, the Romulans would be greatly motivated to prevent you from reaching Calder.”

 

Sarek dipped his head in a shrug. “Perhaps; however, where the shuttle was attacked was deep in Federation space. Calder is right near the Neutral Zone; therefore it would have been safer to wait until the shuttle was closer to attack.”

 

“Unless they hoped to avoid suspicion,” Spock pointed out.

 

“Romulans do not have mind devices like what was used on your mother and Talik.”

 

“That we know of,” Spock replied. “It is, at least, an avenue worth investigating.”

 

Sarek considered this, then nodded. “I will share your insights with Soran,” he promised. 

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek kept the lavatory door open as he completed his morning ablutions, intent on not missing when his wife returned. He was just finishing his shaving when he heard the suite doors open, and his wife crept past with her shoes in hand. “Good morning, Amanda.”

 

“Ambassador!” she started, dropping one of her shoes in the process.

 

“Sarek,” he reminded her.

 

“You’re up early…”

 

“Always,” he confirmed. “Amanda, if you are going to be away for extended periods of time, I request you notify me of a means of communicating with you, in case of an emergency.” He leaned against the lavatory doorjamb. “That is, if you still intend on returning to work.”

 

“Oh?” she asked in surprise, then recovered. “I mean, oh, yes. I definitely want to return to work. Was there an emergency?”

 

“No, but one never knows when an emergency might occur, does one?”

 

“One does not,” she teased. 

 

“I do, however,” he ignored her jest and stepped into the room to pick up her shoe and hand it to her, ”have an assignment for you.”

 

“I’m all ears,” she said seriously, taking her shoe from him. 

 

Sarek hesitated, eyeing her suspiciously. “Was that a joke?”

 

“No…” she said, befuddled. “Oh! No! Absolutely not, Ambassador! I wouldn’t-“

 

“Sarek,” he reminded her again, some impatience bleeding through in his tone.

 

“Right, sorry… Sarek.” She sighed fitfully. “You mentioned an assignment?”

 

“Yes. The Risan ambassador is taking over the negotiations on Calder, and I understand he is having difficulty working through some translations in their proposed contracts. I thought, perhaps, you could assist.” He sat at the desk to pull up the documents on the computer and motioned for her to join him. 

 

“I’ve never even heard of Calder,” she said, bending near him to better see the view screen. 

 

“It is a planet near the Neutral Zone, somewhat recently aligned for trade with the Federation. Based on your memory currently, you would not have known of it.” He watched her study the strange characters, her index fingers running across the screen as if she could feel the documents. “Can you do it?”

 

She turned her head, very near to his. “Of course I can. I just need some time to decipher it.”

 

“There are translation banks on the ship you can access to assist you.”

 

She pressed her lips together grimly. “Translation banks,” she muttered, looking at the writings again, “find all the patterns for you. Might as well just give me the answers. No fun in that.”

 

Sarek nodded to himself, pleased to see her spark coming back. “It’s not merely an issue of trade contracts, although that is part of this.” He pulled up a map of the space around Calder. “This is Federation space,” he gestured to the appropriate area on the map. “This is Romulan space, here is the Neutral Zone, and this is Calder. Calder is not a member of the Federation, although we have been trying to convince them to join for many years. Romulus is also trying to convince Calder to join them, at least that is our belief. If that should happen, the Neutral Zone would have to be reestablished around Calder-“

 

“Which lets them push into our space,” she surmised.

 

“Precisely.”

 

“Romulus…I haven’t heard anything about Romulans since the war, and that was well before I was born.”

 

“They have… been around. Although it was only recently anyone in the Federation finally was able to see what one looked like.” 

 

“What do they look like?” she whispered.

 

“Like Vulcans,” he told her, watching for her reaction. 

 

“Like Vulcans?” she exclaimed, placing her hand upon his arm excitedly. “How’s that possible?”

 

“That remains uncertain, but there is a theory that in ancient times, when Surak’s followers became the majority, a small group of Vulcans left the planet, and reputedly settled on Romulus.”

 

“So they’re Vulcan,” she said astonished.

 

“No, they are Romulans. They evolved on another planet where the philosophies of logic and non-emotion did not develop.”

 

“Emotional Vulcans,” she mused wistfully. 

 

“Romulans,” he reiterated. “Even though we may, perhaps, share an ancient ancestry, they have developed in a different environment. Amanda, they are quite ruthless and violent.”

 

“Surely not all the time,” she sighed. “It would be… interesting, to say the least.” She shrugged lightly, focusing back on the view screen. “Do you have any more writings from Calder? I need to build a database.”

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek glanced around the mess hall, noted his son seated with the captain and Doctor McCoy at a corner table, then approached the replicator to search for a selection. Finding a meal to his liking, he took his selection and turned toward the doors.

 

“We’d love for you to join us, Ambassador,” the captain called across the room.

 

Sarek paused, glanced around the room to note the attention they were now receiving, then with a sigh turned and approached the table. He exchanged silent nods with his son, then greeted the humans appropriately. 

 

“Please, have a seat.” McCoy gestured to the chair next to him.

 

“I… was planning to return to my quarters.”

 

“I won’t hear of it,” Kirk insisted. “You hardly ever leave your quarters. You’re allowed to explore the ship as much as you want.”

 

Sarek sat down resignedly. “I’m aware, thank you, Captain. There is, however, very little of interest to me on this ship that I do not have access to from my quarters. However,” he continued, “I do leave my quarters on a daily basis. I visit the observation lounge.”

 

“Your, uh, wife has missed her last two appointments with me,” McCoy said, changing the subject. “I’m considering making a house call.”

 

“I was unaware, Doctor,” Sarek frowned slightly. “I will see her to sickbay before the end of day ship’s time. She… has been quite occupied lately.”

 

“Yes,” Spock agreed, sipping from his tei. “She mentioned some project you have her working on, but I found her explanation quite puzzling.”

 

“Amanda expressed a desire to return to work; I merely offered her an opportunity to do so.”

 

“Translating some documents from Calder?”

 

“Correct, part of the trade contract requests and correspondence regarding potential Federation membership.”

 

Spock glanced at his companions, noting their confusion as well. “Why would you not run the documents through the translator?”

 

“I’m quite certain that is what the Federation emissary that replaced me on Calder did; however, that would not fulfill your mother’s desire to be productive.”

 

Spock leaned across the table toward his father. “You realize she is building an entire language database from scratch. At a terrific speed, according to Lieutenant Uhura, especially considering she has not once consulted any of the ship’s resources on Calder.”

 

Sarek nodded. “I wondered how she’d fair, considering she’s not actively worked with developing translations in approximately thirty-eight point six Earth years.” Sarek steepled his hands in the table in front of him, becoming pensive. “I strongly suspect had she not had her accident she would have much more difficulty recalling the required skills. It is much like a… reboot, as though the intervening years have not passed.” He looked around at the other men. “It is interesting.”

 

“Interesting?” McCoy echoed. “Her ‘reboot’ has caused her to forget you’re her husband,” McCoy reminded him. 

 

“Yes, Doctor,” he murmured. “That is… most inconvenient.”

 

“You have her… chasing geese, as Humans say,” Spock accused. 

 

McCoy opened his mouth to correct Spock’s usage.

 

“She is not pursuing fowl,” Sarek insisted, unaware of the doctor’s eye roll. “As far as your mother is concerned, Calder is too new for there to be a database, and the ability for a computer to translate entire documents is unheard of.”

 

“She is repeating work others have already done. I fail to see the logic--“

 

“It is not your place to question my logic, i'khaz'el,” Sarek retorted. He glanced askew at the humans present. “She expressed a need to be productive, to keep herself occupied,” he continued in a softer tone. “Thanks to your engineer she thinks she works under me still. Unfortunately, advancements made on the universal translator project your mother’s team began has, in essence, made her obsolete except in cases of dead languages, such as pre-reform Vulcan. My solution satisfies her emotional requirements while offering intellectual stimulation.”

 

“Sounds like a good solution to me,” Kirk offered. 

 

“I understand, sa’mekh,” Spock apologized.

 

Kirk gestured to Sarek’s untouched tray. “Please eat, Ambassador. We don’t mean to keep you from your meal.”

 

Sarek looked down at his tray. “This is for Amanda. I am hoping to entice her to break long enough to at least take in nourishment, if not some actual rest. She refuses nutrient tablets.”

 

“Oh?” McCoy inquired. 

 

“She becomes quite… focused when she has a project that interests her.”

 

McCoy looked at Spock. “And here I thought that was one of your Vulcan traits.”

 

Sarek shook his head. “Certainly not, Doctor. It would be illogical to deny one’s body the fuel it requires, especially when it is tasked with a challenge.”

 

“Illogical, you say,” McCoy grinned.

 

Spock glared at him.

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek paused in the doorway of their quarters, eyes scanning the chaos. “Amanda,” he called out causally. This was not the first time he’d seen his wife turn a room upside down.

 

Amanda came out of her room, her brow furrowed and bottom lip firmly gripped between her teeth.

 

“What have you misplaced?” he asked, clearing a small space to set the food tray down.

 

“One of my discs. I thought maybe it was in my room. I was working on it after I went to bed last night, but-“

 

Sarek cleared his throat softly. “Bedrooms are for relaxing activities. It is poor sleep hygiene to work in the bedroom.”

 

She waved away his comment. “I do it all the time, and I sleep fine. I just can’t imagine where I put it.”

 

“I moved several discs to my room earlier when I was clearing space for you. I shall check.” He gestured to her tray. “You should eat while I look.”

 

Amanda sat at the desk to rummage through her discs and padds, absently plucking bits of food into her mouth. 

 

“I believe this is yours,” Sarek handed her a disc.

 

Amanda eagerly slipped the disc into the computer. “Yes! Thank you!” She began checking the computer with her padds. “It would have meant hours of work lost.”

 

“I apologize for distressing you.” He watched her become absorbed in her work. “Is your tray to your liking?”

 

She promptly took another bite from the tray. “Yes, but it’s really not necessary for you to bring me food.” She looked up from her work. “But it’s appreciated.”

 

“It is an honor to serve.” He bowed slightly.

 

Amanda leaned back against the chair and clapped her hands once. “I think…” She checked her materials again. “I think I’ve unlocked this language!”

 

“Congratulations.” He looked over her shoulder to look at her work. “And in only four days,” he said, impressed.

 

“I won’t really know for sure until I try translating your documents and see if it makes any sense, but… I feel pretty good about it.”

 

“Then this would seem a good stopping point for the night,” he suggested.

 

“Stopping point?” She frowned at him. “Don’t you think I should start on the translations right away? It took me days to work out the patterns, and I don’t really know if it’s right yet-“

 

“Tomorrow is soon enough,” he insisted. “And a fresh mind is best to solve any problems you may encounter.” He took her gently by the arm and escorted her away from the desk. “How would you like to spend this evening?” he asked, having had the privilege of spending most evenings in her company since she began this project.

 

Amanda sighed resignedly. “I don’t know… There’s a virtual bowling alley on this ship. Do you like to bowl?”

 

“No,” he said mildly.

 

“Oh. Let’s see… Oh, they have a small movie theatre. I hear they even serve popcorn, real popcorn.”

 

“We could watch a movie here,” he counter offered. “It would be quieter, and more comfortable.”

 

“Um… well… if I’m taking the night off I’d rather get out for a while.” 

 

“I see.” Sarek clasped his hands at his waist, thinking. “I… will go for my nightly walk, and give the matter more consideration.”

 

“Oh… ok then.” She moved back to the desk and busied herself with straightening it. “Enjoy your walk.”

 

He hesitated at her wording. “I… expect it to be beneficial. While I am gone, I understand you are long overdue for a health checkup with Doctor McCoy.”

 

Amanda shrugged. “I don’t really need a checkup. I feel fine.”

 

“No,” he murmured, holding her hands to still them. “You are recovering from a traumatic accident, Amanda.” She looked up at him. “I must insist you do not take chances with your wellbeing.”

 

“Sarek, I really think I know-“

 

“If I do not have your word that you will go to sickbay within the hour I will escort you there myself.”

 

She stood up, facing off with him. “I’m not sure your position as my employer allows you to involve yourself in my-“

 

“Is that all I am,” he asked softly. “An employer?” 

 

She hesitated. “What?”

 

He stepped closer to her, causing her to press herself against the desk. “During these days since you awoke, has it never seemed there might be something more than mere acquaintance?”

 

“It wouldn’t be proper…”

 

“Why? Do not you and my brother have something more than mere professionalism?”

 

“Yes, of course, but we’ve known each for-“ Her eyes widened; her mouth gaped open. “Oh my gosh… it’s been decades. You and I have known each other, worked together, for decades,” she realized. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I am such an idiot sometimes, Sarek.”

 

“Amanda?”

 

“Of course we are more than just coworkers.” She took his hand between hers. “I’m sorry, Sarek, that I don’t remember our friendship.”

 

Sarek sighed. “Amanda-“

 

“But, I am glad you are my friend, and… I look forward to being your friend from now on,” she offered with a tentative smile.

 

Sarek stared at their hands. “Do you think it is possible that we could resume a… friendship that you do not remember?”

 

She shrugged. “Maybe not the same friendship we had before, but… I’m still me and you’re still you. Seems… well… logical to me that we would develop a friendship again. Perhaps different in some ways than before, since I don’t remember our experiences that you remember, but still-”

 

“It would… please me, immensely, if you were open to such.”

 

“Aww,” she sighed and wrapped an arm around his neck for a brief hug. “Me too.”

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek paced the path between his bedroom door and his wife’s, the benefit of his earlier meditation completely undone by her latest antics. Amanda was missing. He was dismayed when she was not waiting when he returned, and a search of sickbay revealed she did, at least, see Doctor McCoy; but it was many, many hours later and she had not returned, and Spock had not seen her all evening either.

 

Sarek dropped to his knees before the asenoi and again attempted to reclaim his calm. This simply would not do. The weeks of stress, of worry, of pretending… the weeks of being denied she whom he shared himself with and who shared herself with him. His control was in tatters, he could recognize he was on the precipice of an emotional display, and it was unacceptable. It wasn’t that he was in fear of her safety, not anymore. He knew, wherever she was, she was on ship and perfectly safe. Her memory was gone, but physically she was sound. No, what perturbed him was not where she was, but whom she was with. That human. The engineer. He heard voices coming down the corridor and rose to his feet.

 

~~**~~

 

“This was a lovely evening, Monty. Thank you,” Amanda slid her arm through his. “You once again prove my hero, saving me from the monotony of another night spent in my quarters.”

 

“Was my pleasure, lassie.” He glanced down at their linked arms. “I’m sure th’ ambassador would enjoy spending the evening with ye. It mus’ be hard, him bein’ such an important man.”

 

Amanda shook her head and laughed. “I never realized you were such a fan of the Vulcan ambassador. You’ve spent a considerable amount of the evening singing his praises, you know?”

 

“Aye, well… he is known for his work throughout the Federation. He’s certainly a man worth admiring, don’t ye think?”

 

She shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about Sarek anymore.” They stopped outside her suite and she leaned back against the corridor wall. 

 

“Vera well then,” he agreed. “Good night, lass.”

 

“Don’t you want to come in?” she asked, taking hold of his arm.

 

“Nae, I have ta’ go on duty now.” He smiled apologetically.

 

“The night shift?”

 

“Aye,” he nodded. 

 

“Well,” she again held him from leaving, “at least give me a proper good night.” She leaned forward, tipping her head back, and closed her eyes.

 

Scotty glanced nervously toward the doorway then quickly pressed his lips against her cheek. 

 

“Not like that, silly,” she murmured, and locked her arms around the engineer’s neck, and pressed her lips against his.

 

Scotty never heard the suite’s door slide open, but he could feel the heat emanating from the ambassador’s glare, and quickly held his hands up to prove his innocence.

 

“Kroy’kah,” Sarek said, his voice low but no less commanding. He glared at the male touching his mate. ‘The challenger,’ a primal part of him silently screamed. 

 

Amanda turned toward the intrusion, her arms still around her date. “Oh, hi Sarek.” 

 

Scotty pulled her arms from him and gently stepped away. “G’night, lass,” he muttered then made a quick exit.

 

Amanda frowned, then turned toward the ambassador. “You’re more effective than a cold shower.” She grinned to show she was teasing. 

 

Sarek gestured for her to go into their quarters, which she did. “Explain,” he uttered darkly.

 

“Explain?” Amanda shrugged lightly as she sat on the couch to remove her shoes. “That was a kiss. It’s a sign of affection between--“

 

“It was inappropriate,” he accused.

 

Amanda started at his tone. “Listen, I realize Vulcans don’t approve of such displays, but it’s not like we knew you would walk out-“

 

“You should not be touching another male in such ways.” Sarek stood with his back to her.

 

Amanda laughed ominously and stood up. “You’re not my father.”

 

“No,” he agreed.

 

“Then stop treating me like a child!”

 

Sarek turned toward her. “A child?” he asked, stalking toward her. “Do you call what happened between us, right upon this seat,” he gestured toward the couch, “treating you as a child?”

 

She blushed and looked away. “I kind of thought we had an unspoken agreement to forget about that.”

 

“We did not.”

 

“I’m sorry about the other night.”

 

“Why?” he demanded.

 

She hesitated. “Because…”

 

“Are you also sorry for your behavior with the human?”

 

“No!” she exclaimed indignantly. “I’m human, in case you didn’t notice.”

 

“Irrelevant!”

 

“Are you… are you jealous?”

 

Sarek turned his back to her and stepped away. “I am Vulcan…”

 

Spock and Kirk stood in the doorway unnoticed by the couple. 

 

Amanda crossed her arms angrily. “Then start acting like it!”

 

“What is wrong?” Spock asked as he escorted his captain into the room enough for the doors to close to provide a modicum of privacy.

 

“Silek! Thank god.” She gestured at Sarek. “Deal with your brother; he’s gone off the deep end!” 

 

Sarek stiffened at the accusation. 

 

“Sarek?” Spock asked quietly setting the packages he’d brought for his mother upon the desk.

 

The elder shook his head. “This situation is intolerable. I must speak with McCoy; there must be another way.”

 

“Oh, I agree!” she yelled. “I’ll pack my things right now and find-“

 

Sarek spun around toward her. “You are going nowhere! I-“

 

“Kroy’kah,” Spock commanded, making them both silent. He turned to his father. “Before you start forbidding and she starts rebelling, would you please explain the issue?”

 

“The engineer is the issue,” Sarek muttered darkly. 

 

Amanda scoffed. 

 

“Mr. Scott,” Spock surmised. “How?”

 

“Scotty’s a good man,” Kirk said defending his officer. “An honorable one.”

 

“He is Terran,” Sarek retorted darkly.

 

Spock shook his head. “The two are not mutually exclusive.” He turned toward his captain. “Jim, see that Amanda does not leave. I will speak with Sarek in private.” He gestured toward his father’s bedroom, and followed him in.

 

He watched his father, his back was to him but he could see his fists clenched at his sides, his body taunt, and respirations accelerated. “What happened?”

 

“He wants her. He seeks to come between us. To challenge.”

 

“No,” Spock insisted. “Jim was correct, Mr. Scott is too honorable.”

 

Sarek shook his head. “Earth men… They have never respected my place with her. They always seek to question it, to test her loyalty to me.”

 

“No one here questions she is your wife.”

 

“Without her memories, her emotions, there is nothing that binds her to me. He takes advantage of this.”

 

“He would not. I would stake my life on it.”

 

“You did not see...“ Sarek stiffened. “I am losing her,” he said, bewildered. 

 

“It has only been fourteen days since she awoke. Perhaps your expectations are too high?” His father had no response, but was no less tense. “In approximately two point six Standard weeks we will be to Earth, you and she will depart together, and Mr. Scott will still be here.”

 

“Go see to your mother, Spock’am,” he ordered softly. He glanced back when he heard no movement. “There’s no cause for concern, but I require privacy. Go.”

 

Sarek took a moment to center himself once Spock left, then returned to the common room. He watched his wife, arms crossed, face clouded with anger. When their eyes met she turned, putting her back to him. No one noticed when he left the suite.

 

~~**~~

 

After a little redirection and inquisition of red-shirted crewmen, Sarek strode into engineering and quickly spotted his quarry. “Engineer, I will speak with you,” he commanded, raising to his full height, his hands carefully folded at his waist. 

 

Scotty dismissed the crewman he was speaking too. “Aye,” he said resignedly. “My office is just over here.”

 

Sarek followed him into a small room cluttered with manuals and schematics and waited for the door to close. “You have been spending a significant amount of unchaperoned time with my wife,” he accused. You have been seen… engaging in inappropriate behavior with her.”

 

“Ambassador-“

 

“I insist you state your intention,” he snapped.

 

“My intention, sair?” Scotty frowned at him. “I dinnae understand.”

 

“Your intention. Do you seek to challenge?” He could see confusion on the Human’s face. “Do you…” He paused to consider his wording. “Are you trying to convince my wife to choose you as a partner?”

 

“Nae!” Scotty indignantly declared. “She’s a married woman!”

 

“I know,” Sarek said deadpan. “I am married to her.”

 

Scotty paced in front of the Vulcan. “Not tae mention mother to my friend and first officer.”

 

Sarek watched him, and could detect no subterfuge, which cooled his ire slightly. “It is also not acceptable for you to engage in… affectionate activities… even on a temporary basis, as Humans are known to do.”

 

Scotty glared at him. “Ye have a talent for stating the obvious, Ambassador.”

 

Sarek’s eyebrow rose slightly at the insolent tone. “Yes, well, you say the correct words, Mr. Scott, but-“

 

“An’ I mean them, ye can be sure o’ that.”

 

Sarek stepped away, thinking. “Then, I believe,” he turned back toward the Scotsman, “by Terran tradition we should shake hands to cement our understanding.” He held out his hand.

 

Scotty looked from the outstretched hand to Sarek’s face devoid, naturally, of any hint of the workings behind it. With a derisive smile he placed his hand against the Vulcan’s, expecting the prolonged contact beyond that of a typical handshake. “If ye wanted to touch my mind to test my honestly, ye could’ve just asked.” He caught Sarek’s eyes widen with surprise. “I’ve known yer son long enough to know yer Vulcan tricks.”

 

Sarek released his hand and stepped away nonplused. The Human’s words were true.

 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what ye saw.”

 

“Human platitudes hold little value for me, Mr. Scott,” Sarek murmured. “An explanation would be helpful.”

 

“Explanation? For the kiss?” He shrugged at Sarek’s nod. “She took me by surprise.”

 

Sarek grunted softly. “She seems to be… enamored with you. Perhaps it would be best if you no longer spent time with my wife.”

 

“Aye,” Scotty uttered hesitantly. “I can see why ye’d want that, but… well, sair, that’d leave her with no human friends at all, now wouldn’t it?” 

 

“I don’t see why that-“

 

“And if it’s human companionship she be wanting… there’s over four hundred humans on this ship, and not all willing to turn away from a beautiful lass like yer wife.”

 

Sarek sighed and nodded reluctantly. 

 

“For the most part, we only talk, just so ye know.”

 

“About what?”

 

“Sometimes about her memory, or lack thereof, her accident. Sometimes her life… her interests… movies, music… other nonsense young girls blither on about.” He smiled to show his jest.

 

Sarek nodded. “Her behavior has altered quite a bit from the norm. I… never realized how truly young she was when we met.”

 

“Ye know,” Scotty moved behind his desk, putting a little distance between him and the Vulcan. “I wasn’t her first choice of date this evening. She told me neither ye nor Spock… er… Silek… wanted to spend time wi ’her.”

 

Sarek started. “That is untrue,” he declared. 

 

Scotty shrugged. “She said she wanted to see th’ movie an’ roll some lanes but had no one ta do it with.”

 

Sarek shook his head. “She mentioned these things to me, but I suggested we watch a movie from our quarters instead. We had not reach a consensus before she left.”

 

Scotty grimaced at him. “Stay home and watch a movie?” He busied himself with straightening his manuals. “Sounds like something an old married couple would do.”

 

Sarek dipped his head in a shrug. “Logical, as we are an-” Sarek clamped his lips together tightly, his error now abundantly clear. “Point taken, Engineer.”

 

“Sair, I just--“

 

“Doctor McCoy to Deck D cabin D42, medical emergency! Doctor McCoy, medical emergency in the guest quarters!”

 

Both men glanced toward the ceiling as the captain’s voice, not entirely hiding a sense of panic, rang out over the ship’s intercom. “Amanda,” Sarek muttered, striding out of the office. 

 

Scotty had to jog to catch him in the corridor. “Ambassador,” he grabbed the Vulcan’s arm. “I know a quicker way.”

 

~~**~~

 

The engineer definitely knew his ship, and they entered his quarters before the medical team arrived. He paused in the doorway, overcome by the stench of what he eventually realized was the type of perfume his wife wore, but greatly amplified. The captain glanced their way, a hand nursing an injured right eye. Spock was kneeling upon the floor attempting to restrain and comfort his mother, who was fighting him, crying and making sounds that seemed a mix between despair and fury. 

 

“Spock?”

 

His son looked up at him. “Where were you?” he accused, his anger not entirely controlled.

 

The suite doors opened and McCoy rushed past Sarek to attend his wife. “What happened?” McCoy dodged her blind swipe and pulled out his medi-scanner. 

 

“I don’t know,” Spock admitted. “I gave her a gift, some perfume. I opened the bottle for her to smell, and she became violent. Knocked it from my hand and started,” he readjusted his hold on her, “acting like this.”

 

McCoy put away his medical tricorder and started looking through his hypos. “I think she’s having a flashback.” He glanced up at the others. “We should get rid of this smell.”

 

Kirk slapped the intercom button. “This is the captain, I need environmental services in cabin 42 deck D immediately.”

 

“Are you saying she is remembering, Doctor?” Sarek asked, stepping closer. 

 

“Kind of, but not in a good way.” He held the hypo up to the light to confirm the dosage. “I’m gonna sedate her, Spock.”

 

“No!” Sarek dropped to his knees in front of his wife. “No potions.”

 

“I can’t leave her like this,” McCoy insisted. “She’ll hurt herself.”

 

Sarek tentatively reached out to brush his fingers against her face. She flinched, struggling anew to break free of her son. He looked past her at Spock. 

 

Spock nodded. “Try.” He moved up against his mother’s back, strengthening his hold on her.

 

Sarek took Amanda’s face between his hands, ignoring her pleas to stop, and worked his fingers to the appropriate points. “Wife,” he whispered, his eyes closing as he concentrated on seeking her mind.

 

“What are ya doin’?” McCoy asked, glancing at Spock in surprise when the younger Vulcan shushed him.

 

Sarek’s brow furrowed. “Wife?” He inched closer, adjusting his fingers some more. Suddenly, his face cleared. “Amanda,” he purred.

 

“Sarek?” she stopped struggling.

 

Unseen by his parents, Spock nodded in approval of his father’s success. He loosened his hold from restraint to just support.

 

“I am here,” Sarek murmured reassuringly.

 

Amanda’s face crumbled as new tears began to flow. “No. Go. Please, go!”

 

“I am here,” he said again. “I will protect--“

 

“Take me away,” she begged, her hands blindly sought his chest; her fingers clenched his tunic tightly. 

 

“Take me back,” he softly commanded. “Show me.”

 

“No!”

 

“I am here. You are safe.” He spread his knees apart and inched even closer until she was ensconced between his legs. “You must show me.”

 

Simultaneously they gasped. The ambassador’s breathing quickening to match his wife’s, her sense of panic filling him and he walked through her memories with her. 

 

“Shooting,” Sarek murmured wondrously, his voice no longer under his strict Vulcan control. “Talik! No… no, leave us.” His eyes roamed the room, but saw nothing in the present. 

 

The suite doors opened and Kirk motioned for silence. “Get rid of that smell,” he ordered in a whisper. “Do it quietly.”

 

The two crewmen nodded and carefully moved across the room, giving the Vulcans a wide berth. Soon the air cleared, and everyone was breathing more comfortably. 

 

“Humanoid,” Sarek confirmed, his voice barely heard by the humans present. 

 

“Sarek…” Amanda cried out.

 

Sarek’s face crumbled, nearly succumbing to the emotion his wife experienced. “She does not know,” he hissed. “They must see she does not know.”

 

“Sarek,” Spock spoke loudly to get through to him. “Describe them.”

 

Sarek shook his head. “Uniforms? Covered completely. Can’t recognize…”

 

Spock placed his fingers against his father’s face. Sarek jerked his head away. “No.”

 

“Let me see,” Spock requested, his tone almost whining. “I might know-“

 

Sarek gasped, his face jerking as though he’d taken a blow. He frowned, looking around the room then down at himself. “What is this?” He looked straight ahead, his eyes squinting as though blinded. “Who are you?”

 

Amanda started to whimper.

 

“Cold,” Sarek shivered slightly. “They feel cold to us.” Sarek glanced upwards. “The device… a helmet… wires enter each side.” His head straightened unnaturally. His eyes widened in alarm. “Spikes…” He gasped. “Heat… no, please…”

 

Amanda cried out.

 

His face contorted in agony. “Burns… the pain,” he shouted, startling everyone in the room. Just as suddenly he stopped, his eyes rolled back and he began to sway. 

 

Spock pushed Sarek’s arm, breaking his contact with his mother, then slapped the elder soundly across the face.

 

Sarek gasped, but his eyes cleared and he steadied himself. He reached for his sobbing wife, pulling her against him. “Why did you do that?”

 

“You were losing consciousness,” Spock explained. 

 

“There may have been more,” Sarek complained.

 

“Unlikely. I’m quite certain there would be nothing more until she awoke in sickbay.” Spock rose to his feet and approached Jim. “The device. I don’t recognize it.”

 

“No,” Kirk agreed. 

 

“Sounds pretty crude though,” Scotty hypothesized. “Unrefined.”

 

“Now that we have a description, I’ll ask Lieutenant Uhura to contact some of the less-than-legitimate subspace frequencies,” Kirk decided. “See if anyone knows of it.”

 

“He said they felt cold,” Spock mused. “Not Romulans then.”

 

“Bones,” Kirk stepped over to where his CMO still sat mesmerized by the ambassador’s ritualistic touching of his wife’s face. Spock joined him. “Can you come up with a list of what races would have a cooler body temperature.”

 

McCoy glanced at him briefly. “Yeah, Jim, I’ll work on it.” He cleared his throat softly. “Can I sedate her now, Sarek? She needs to get some rest.”

 

“A moment, Doctor,” Sarek mumbled. He closed his eyes, his fingers still moving peculiarly, his lips silently moving. Amanda quieted, looking up at him. Her hand caressed his cheek, then fell to his chest. She lay her head against him and fell promptly asleep.

 

“The bond?” Spock asked.

 

“The bond,” Sarek confirmed. “Weak still, but stronger than before.”

 

McCoy put his hypo away and rose to his feet. “I want to see her as soon as she wakes up. I don’t care what time it is.”

 

“Yes, Doctor. I thank you.”

 

“Thank me? You didn’t actually let me do anything, Ambassador.” He looked at his friend. “What happened to you?”

 

Kirk shrugged sheepishly. “The lady has a mean right hook.”

 

Spock squatted down to take his mother in his arms. “You can’t stay on the floor with her.” 

 

Sarek reluctantly released her to their son and rose as well, helping Spock to settle her into her bed. 

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek stood in the doorway to her room and watched her fight against the breaking of her sleep. He’d already called Doctor McCoy, knowing his wife would soon give in to the inevitable and rise. 

 

The suite doors opened and McCoy stepped inside. “Vulcans really never lock their doors, huh? I guess I never believed Spock when he said that.”

 

“There is no violent crime on Vulcan, and no Vulcan would enter another’s space without a logical reason, therefore, no locks.” He nodded toward his wife. “She will awaken momentarily,” he assured him.

 

“Okay.” McCoy eyed him. “Same clothes as last night? I take it you didn’t sleep.”

 

Sarek stepped away, allowing her door to close, and picked some fruit from a tray he’d retrieved the moment he sensed Amanda’s awakening. “I was tending to my wife.”

 

“Uh-huh. Wasn’t it you who just a few days ago was telling me how it was illogical to deny oneself the fuel it needs to function?”

 

“It was.”

 

McCoy sat upon the arm of the couch and stared at him, baffled. “Aren’t you being a little contradictory then?”

 

“No, Doctor. Vulcans do not require the amount of sleep humans do, and I did mediate some during the night. I am quite refreshed.” He heard movement from the other room. “McCoy, do you have… expectations when my wife wakes up?”

 

“You mean as far as changes to her memory after what happened last night?” He grimaced and shook his head. “No, Sarek, I don’t. I mean, it’s certainly possible she might have more of her memory today, but I can’t say I’m expecting it.”

 

Sarek moved toward her door. “She is awake.” As he neared it her door slid open, and a disheveled woman stepped through holding her head. She swayed so Sarek helped her over to the couch.

 

“I am so glad to see you, Doctor,” she mumbled, bending over and cradling her head. 

 

“Oh?” McCoy teased. “You haven’t seemed very fond of my services so far.” He gave her a once-over with the medi-scanner. “

 

“My head is killing me,” she uttered, “and I’m nauseous.” She looked up, squinting at Sarek. “Did I go out drinking last night?” She sighed when he shook his head. “Feels like it.”

 

“Here,” McCoy said, pressing a hypo against her arm. “This’ll fix you up pretty quick.”

 

She sat up straighter as the medication took effect. Sarek handed her a glass of water. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

 

“How’d you sleep?” McCoy asked.

 

“Horrible! I had the worst nightmares. Feels like I didn’t sleep a wink.”

 

He nodded, filing the information away. “How’re you feeling now?” McCoy asked.

 

Amanda took stock of her condition. “Not perfect, but better. Thank you, Doctor.”

 

“I’m needed in sickbay, but I’ll stop in to check on you later. Let me know if those dreams continue, I can give you something to help you sleep.” He caught Sarek’s gaze. “Call me if there’s any concerns.”

 

Sarek waited until they were alone then sat down beside her. “Amanda, what do you remember from last night?”

 

She shrugged. “Not much.”

 

He waited, hoping she’d elucidate, but she did not. “What were your dreams about?”

 

She shrugged again. “I don’t know. They’re just dreams, nothing important.” She stood up. “I’m going to clean up, then we can start on those translations, if you want?”

 

He nodded his acquiescence. 

 

She started moving away, then turned back to him. “I do remember one thing,” she began.

 

“What is it?” he asked eagerly.

 

She took a deep breath. “I remember we had a fight.”

 

“Ah,” he shook his head. “Put it from your mind, Amanda. It is of no consequence.”

 

“No, I accused you of being emotional, and I know that’s very insulting and hurtful for your people.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight with you.”

 

“Nor I you.”

 

She smiled gratefully and turned away to head toward the restroom. She laughed loudly. “Like you could ever be jealous!”

 

~~**~~

 

“You are unbelievable!” she exclaimed, leading the ambassador into their suite a few days later. 

 

“I fail to understand your reaction, Amanda. I have done only what you asked of me.” Sarek poured himself some k’vass and busied himself with drinking its sweet contents to conceal his amusement.

 

“All your complaining about how you don’t like bowling, and you go and bowl a perfect game?”

 

“I do not enjoy bowling,” he insisted. “It is too simple to interest me.”

 

“I think I’ve been hoodwinked,” she accused, stalking playfully toward him. “It was the same when we played billiards… and chess.”

 

“I am partial to chess,” he admitted. “You just happen to be bad at it.” 

He accepted her playful punch to his arm. “What would you like to do tomorrow evening?”

 

“No games, that’s for sure.” She glanced into his glass. “You drink that a lot.” He merely nodded and helped himself to another swallow. “What is it?”

 

“K’vass, a beverage favored by many Vulcans.”

 

“I thought Vulcans didn’t have alcohol?”

 

Sarek poured himself a second glass. “We have alcohol, but it does not have intoxicating effects on us. This, however, contains no alcohol.” He held his glass toward her. “Do you wish to try it?”

 

She looked from the viscous liquid to him. “Okay…” She took his glass, swirled the contents around then took a dainty sip. “Oh, it’s very sweet, isn’t it?” She made an unpleasant face. ‘Sickly so.” She looked up at him. “I thought sugar was intoxicating for Vulcans?”

 

Sarek nodded. “K’vass does have certain… altering effects.”

 

She took another sip and made the same unpleasant face. “It’s too sweet for me.” 

 

Sarek nodded, knowing she would not like it, and took the glass back from her. 

 

Amanda turned away and sat upon the couch, pulling the computer viewscreen toward her. Sarek sat down beside her. “Silek says it’s illogical to become intoxicated.” She glanced toward him. “Not that it’s stopped me, mind you.” She smiled.

 

“Intoxication is illogical, nor would any Vulcan wish to lose control to such a degree. In moderation, however, k’vass can aid in relaxation and meditation.” He laid his head against the back of the couch, demonstrating his point. 

 

“Do you have trouble relaxing or meditating?” She booted up the computer and began browsing. 

 

“Typically no, but lately…” He finished off his drink, set the empty glass on the narrow table behind the couch, and slid closer to her. “What are you looking at?”

 

“The ship’s event calendar. Would you-“ She had turned to look at him and started upon finding him so close. “Would you be willing to take a cooking class with me?”

 

Sarek sighed turning his eyes away in what Amanda has come to think of as a Vulcan eye roll. 

 

“Oh, all right,” she laughed softly. “You don’t have to.”

 

“I will go.”

 

She went back to browsing. “That’s okay. It was a lot to ask.”

 

He placed his hand against her arm. “If it is what you wish, I will go.” He leaned closer and pointed at the viewscreen. “An orchestra will be playing in Rec Room three tomorrow night. Do you wish to hear them?”

 

“Look at the times. We could hear the orchestra and still make the cooking class… if you were serious about going.”

 

“I was, and I find that to be an excellent suggestion.” He rested his hand on her arm again.

 

She half turned toward him. “You’ve been awfully accommodating lately.”

 

Sarek rested his head against the back of the couch and sighed. “Yes, I have,” he drawled.

 

Her eyes widened with surprise. “I think that k’vass is working on you.” Sarek watched her lazily. “Perhaps it would be a good time to make use of it and get some rest.” She started to rise but his hand tightened on her.

 

“Not just yet, Amanda. Pick a movie,” he said. “We shall watch it together.”

 

She watched him a moment then gently moved his hand off her arm. She turned so her back was to him and they were sitting in identical postures. “What would you like to watch?”

 

“Your choice,” he offered.

 

Amanda selected a movie and settled in to watch it. A short time later Sarek’s arm slid across her waist. She frowned and turned toward him, her objection dying before it began when she realized his eyes were closed, and his breathing deep and slow. Sarek had fallen asleep. She bit her lip and slowly started to move his arm away, but he tightened it. Releasing his arm, Amanda tried to slide herself out from underneath it, but again Sarek tightened his hold on her. She uttered a silent curse and turned back toward him, her hand raised to awaken him. She hesitated, watching him. His face was relaxed in a way she’d never seen, his lips slightly curled at the corners, as though, only in sleep, could he be permitted to smile. She lowered her hand, unable to disturb him, and settled herself in to finish watching the movie.

 

~~**~~

 

“Damn it!” she swore softly, tossing her padds down in frustration. 

 

“Amanda,” Sarek reprimanded just as softly, carrying two trays of food into their suite and placing them upon the desk. 

 

“These translations are gibberish,” she complained. “I’m going to have to go back and recheck the patterns.” She rubbed her hands over her face and sighed.

 

“Perhaps you have spent enough time on those this day. Would you like to engage in a recreation of some type?” He removed the tray covers as she came over to investigate. 

 

“No, I think I’ll just stay in tonight.” She plucked a berry from her plate and popped it into her mouth, then grimaced as she looked at her food. “I don’t know how you guys do it,” she commented, walking away. 

 

“I will require a little more context before I can attempt to answer,” he jested.

 

“How you stand being vegetarian. It gets boring after a while.”

 

“Not at all, Amanda,” he disagreed. “Granted, choices on this human ship are somewhat limited, but ordinarily… There are many dishes one can make without the use of flesh. Delicious ones.”

 

She picked up the sehlat statue and examined it again, having found herself drawn to it many times over the past few weeks. She leaned against the counter casually. “I wouldn’t think that would matter to Vulcans,” she mused. “The only thing that should really matter is that it fulfills your nutritional requirements, right?”

 

Sarek quirked an eyebrow. “Nutrition is the ultimate goal of eating, but since we all have no choice but to do so, there is a certain logic to making the experience as pleasant as possible, is there not?”

 

“I suppose.” She set the sehlat back down. “But I’m craving… I don’t know… something different.”

 

Sarek picked up his plate and held it out for her to see. “I have yet to see you try any Vulcan foods. Try some.”

 

She glanced at his dish and grimaced. “That’s okay. Thank you though.” She walked back over to him and started picking through her own food.

 

He frowned and looked down at his plate. “I know it looks different than what you are accustomed to, but just try it,” he urged.

 

“No, thank you.”

 

Sarek put his plate down and carefully picked up one of his mini prusah’kisan he knew Amanda favored. “Take one bite, Amanda. I am confident you will find it palatable.” He held it out for her to take.

 

“I don’t want it,” she said impatiently.

 

“You are being illogical,” he accused patiently, and stepped closer to hold the Vulcan pastry toward her mouth. “One bite is all I ask.”

 

She laughed at his insistence. “You can’t make me.” Her eyes widened as an odd light came into his, and his eyebrow rose slowly. 

 

“I think,” he murmured, “the lady challenges me.” He stepped closer to her and she automatically stepped back.

 

“Don’t you dare,” she warned him, struggling to keep a straight face.

 

“Amanda, attend,” he commanded, not expecting her to, and almost hoping she would not.

 

“I’ll run,” she warned him. She dodged as though to run for the door and when he moved to intercept her she spun on her heel and headed around the couch toward her room, laughing the whole way. Sarek, despite his age, surprised her with his agility as he launched himself over the couch to land in front of her, pastry still undamaged in his hand. She screeched in surprise, nearly barreling into the ambassador. “I’ll scream,” she laughed breathlessly.

 

“No one is near enough to hear,” he rumbled, stalking toward her even as she backed away. “But, by all means, continue to inform me of your intentions.” She bumped into the counter, out of room. He slowed his approach, his gaze roaming her widened eyes, her flushed cheeks and heaving bosom. He felt the primal response flare within him. 

 

“Sarek, let’s be… logical about this.” She straightened bravely, but the quake in her voice betrayed her. Sarek stepped up to her, loomed over her. She was forced to look up to see his face, never before truly appreciating how large a man he was. “Fine,” she agreed with false levity. “I’ll try it.” She took the pastry from his hand and bit into it, maintaining eye contact with him so she knew he knew she was cooperating. “Oh,” she exclaimed softly, looking closer at the remnant in her hand. “It is good!”

 

Sarek took her hand and raised the last bite to his own lips, taking it from her, his lips lingering, his tongue cleaning any last vestiges from her fingers. He placed her hand against his face, pressing her fingers against his PSI points, as he reached with his free hand toward hers. He had barely brushed her essence when she gasped and pulled her hand away, breaking their contact. He tried reaching her through the bond, but found it still too weak. He cupped her face with his hands and pressed his lips upon hers.

 

Amanda gasped, the heat of his lips burning upon hers, the taste of alien fruit and something more. He was gentle, his lips teasing, exploring, and she found herself responding against her will. His lips left hers, trailing across her cheek to her ear. He called her name with a sigh, a longing, desperate sound that caused a visceral response within her. He grabbed her hips, pulled her tightly against him and he took her lips again, more urgently this time, demanding. She melted against him and she closed her eyes as her world began to dissolve.

 

“Your home is beautiful, Sarek,” Amanda said, looking at the view of the landscape through the window. 

 

“Our home,” he corrected, his dark eyes burning into her in some strange way that began earlier at their ceremony and had not changed. “All that I have, all that I am, is yours.” He stepped up behind her and placed his hands upon her shoulders. “We are one now,” he turned her to face him, “legally, and mentally.”

 

“Yes,” she agreed, chewing her lower lip as she now realized what that intense gaze was for.

 

Sarek brushed his paired fingers gently across her lips. “I have not shown you the sleeping chamber yet.”

 

“Bedroom,” she softly corrected him.

 

He nodded once. “Bedroom.”

 

“I’m looking forward to it,” she purred, then stepped away from him. “Two weddings in two weeks is positively exhausting,” she said lightly.

 

“Yes… well, I… I assume you are not too exhausted, Amanda?” he asked meaningfully.

 

“Too exhausted for what?” She busied herself with examining some art work. She glanced up in time to catch him frown.

 

“There are certain… matters still to be attended to.”

 

“Certainly those matters, whatever they are, can wait, can’t they?” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep a straight face.

 

“There are… traditions… to be upheld after a joining ceremony, wedding ceremony,” he corrected, “I believe for both our people.” He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “Surely you want to… participate in those traditions.”

 

She slid from his grasp. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she claimed.

 

“I am quite certain…” He stiffened noticeably. “You are teasing me,” he accused, his face softening upon seeing the smile she quickly tried to hide. “Come here, Amanda.” He stepped toward her and she stepped back evading him. “Wife, attend,” he commanded and made a quick grab for her, but she flitted away easily, laughing at him. “Amanda,” he rumbled softly, “I should warn you against provoking me into chasing you. Vulcan males are… excitable, when forced to overcome a challenge for their mates.”

 

“I’m not forcing you to do anything,” she said innocently, batting her eyes at him.

 

He lunged for her and she took off on a run down the nearest hallway. She couldn’t hear him follow, and spared a glance over her shoulder to check when she ran into something hard and unyielding. Strong arms enclosed around her, squeezing her tight. She looked up into her new husband’s eyes. “How-“ She frowned then giggled. “It goes in a circle.”

 

“Indeed,” he confirmed. 

 

“I’d already forgotten.” She shook her head ruefully. 

 

“Fortunate for me.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers. “You are mine now, by the laws of both our people.” He scooped her up in his arms. “I shall be denied no longer, my wife.”

 

Slowly they parted, his hands loosening to allow her some space while he searched her face for some indication of her reaction. She gazed up at him, her expression dazed and far away. She rested her fingers against his lips and frowned. Slowly, she stepped from his arms, her fingers trailing from his mouth to his chest, then his shoulder until finally she was out of reach. 

 

Sarek turned and followed her, his pace matching hers. When her bedroom door slid open he softly called her name.

 

She stopped, turned back toward him, but her countenance remained just as confused.

 

Sarek closed the distance between them and slid his arms around her, found her lips with his again and probed her mouth gently, elated when she again responded in kind. “I want-“ He sighed against her hair then looked at her again. “Invite me in.”

 

Her eyes widened, her jaw slackening at the suggestion. She slowly shook her head. “I’m not…” She frowned and sighed, frustration marring her features. “I’m confused. I… I need to think.” She stepped away from him and entered her room. 

 

~~**~~


	5. Chapter 5

“You seem… unusually contemplative, Father.” Spock moved his queen to another level on the chessboard.

 

Sarek’s eyes snapped to his son, but he did not respond. He made the appropriate move to counteract the attack.

 

“Did something happen with Mother?” he asked, studying his options.

 

“What did she say?”

 

Spock started at the urgency in his voice. “She said nothing. In fact I haven’t seen her in several days. You have been occupying the majority of her time,” he pointed out, bemused. Sarek’s solution for dealing with Mr. Scott’s attentions to Amanda, or vice versa, was a source of amusement for his human compatriots. Himself as well, to be honest, when he’d heard some of the places and activities his father has been reported to be seen. “I simply deduced, logically, that it would have something to do-“

 

“Yes, of course.” Sarek crossed his arms, an almost human gesture, for him. 

 

“You had a fight?” Spock picked his move, and sat back, waiting.

 

Sarek automatically countered it. “Not a fight,” he hedged, “however, I believe I did err… grievously.”

 

“Grievously?” Spock asked doubtfully. 

 

“You will come back with me, for end meal.” 

 

Spock accepted the Vulcan form of a question. “If you wish, but why?” He made his next move on the chessboard.

 

“It is, perhaps, the only way she’ll tolerate my presence.”

 

Spock’s eyebrow rose dramatically. “What did you do?”

 

Sarek could not meet his eyes. “The specifics are… unimportant.” He grimaced, which alarmed his son even more. “Those behaviors you spoke to me of, the ones she deemed forward and inappropriate… I made it much worse.”

 

The chessboard sat forgotten between them. “Why would you do that?”

 

“It was hardly a logical decision, Spock.” He pressed his lips together tightly. “It is… difficult… to change behaviors so soon after so long.”

 

“What did she say?”

 

“Nothing.” He sighed softly. “She hasn’t uttered a single word that was not directly related to her translations.”

 

Spock grunted thoughtfully. “You are losing this game currently. If you are willing to forfeit, it is an acceptable time for end meal.”

 

~~**~~

 

They entered the suite hesitantly, puzzled to find it seemingly empty. Spock went to his mother’s bedroom, chimed, then tried the door when there was no answer. It was unlocked, but the room was unoccupied. “She must have gone out,” he surmised.

 

“The engineer,” Sarek murmured darkly.

 

“Is on duty, I believe.” Spock went to the intercom and checked. Scotty was at his post. “We can wait for her.”

 

Sarek nodded then sat at his desk to look for any messages. He’d not heard from Soran since before he postulated Spock’s suspicion of the Romulans. Inquiries to his government indicated they also had no information about Soran either. Being in the Neutral Zone, this is not completely unexpected, but the silence was discomforting. 

 

A soft thud sounded from his bedroom area. He glanced toward it, then toward his son, who was also looking that way. Sarek rose and pressed the switch to open his bedroom door. He stopped in the doorway, aware his son now stood at his side, but his attention was solely on the sight before him. Amanda sat upon his bed, her back to them, focused on something he could not see. “Amanda,” he called to her softly.

 

She spun toward them, her eyes panic-stricken. Upon seeing them she started gasping, nearly panting. 

 

Sarek moved slightly closer, mystified. “Why are you in here?” he asked curiously, with no censure. 

 

She jumped from the bed and moved to the other side of the room, her back to them. “I lost one of my discs…” she began hesitantly, her voice shaken. “I thought it might be with yours again. I… I didn’t think you’d mind if I checked.”

 

“I do not,” he reassured her, but she didn’t seem to calm any. “What is wrong?”

 

She turned to face them, putting her back tightly against the far wall.

 

“Her album,” Spock whispered with dismay. 

 

Sarek looked at the device she held and felt the air leave his lungs. Spock was correct; it was Amanda’s holo-pic player. After she had left him the other night he had looked through it, an illogical need to try to be close to her even though his own eidetic memory could have recalled those events quite clearly on his own. He had left it sitting atop the nightstand.

 

That, at least, explained her discomfort. Finding himself at a complete loss for words, an unusual state for him, he could only watch her, his head tilted to the right in an angle matched, unbeknownst to him, by his son. Several times Amanda acted as though she would speak, but she remained silent. Tears which had filled her eyes slowly broke their embankment, and she impatiently brushed them away. 

 

Spock straightened and closed half the distance between them. “You must have questions,” he prompted.

 

She nodded and gestured with the device. “Do you know what’s in here?” she asked incredulously. Spock nodded. “Is this a joke?” She swiped on the device and held up a picture of herself and Sarek on their wedding day. “This is a joke!” she insisted. 

 

“No.” Sarek stepped forward until he was next to his son. “That is a picture of our joining ceremony, on Earth. There is another one on there of our Vulcan ceremony. We married twice because, even though either one would be recognized by the Federation, we wanted to ensure no one could question our union.”

 

She shook her head vehemently. 

 

“You are my wife,” he insisted. 

 

She swiped to another picture and held it up again. This one showed them with Spock when he was just a few years old.

 

“Our son.”

 

She laughed derisively. “No.” She glared at him. “You’re insane.” She tossed the player onto the floor between them. “This,” she gestured angrily at the player, “I don’t know how you did it, but this is sick.”

 

Sarek frowned at her. “I don’t understand.”

 

“She thinks you produced them. That the holo-pics are fakes,” Spock explained.

 

“Tell him, Silek,” she begged. “You have to tell him the truth.”

 

“Spock,” Sarek corrected her, moving closer to pick up the holo-pic player and place it upon his bed. “He is not Silek. Look closely, Amanda.”

 

“My god,” she yelled incredulously, moving closer to Spock and giving him a wide berth. “Like I wouldn’t know Silek if I saw him?” She looked up at Spock, now standing toe to toe with him. Spock waited quietly, watching the emotions flash across her face – anger, then confusion, then fear. She quickly backed away from him. “No,” she moaned, her hands pressing painfully again her temples. 

 

“Spock is our son.”

 

She moaned again, the pain causing her to bend over. “Why are you doing this to me?”

 

“That’s enough for today, I think,” Spock said. He tried to help her but she jerked away from him and swatted at his hands. 

 

“Where’s Silek? I want to talk to Silek.”

 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Spock said kindly.

 

“Why not?” She straightened but was leaning against the wall for support. “If what you say is true, why won’t you let me ask him?”

 

“Because he’s dead,” Sarek said plainly.

 

Amanda flinched. “No,” she whispered. Tears now streamed down her face. 

 

“Not all at once,” Spock scolded his father. 

 

“The time for lies has passed,” Sarek declared. “She has seen the evidence of her life, to continue with falsehoods now can only confuse and alienate her.”

 

Amanda slowly slid to the floor.

 

“She needs time to process all this,” Spock complained.

 

Sarek moved past Spock to squat beside his wife. “I do not mean to be harsh.”

 

She looked into his face. “How… how can you just say that? Just… He’s your brother.”

 

“It was many years ago now, Amanda,” he said softly. “I mourned, as did you.” She began to sob anew. He reached for her, ignoring her attempts to fend him off and assisted her in standing. “Perhaps we should call Dr. McCoy,” he said to his son, who nodded in agreement and left the room to do so. “I think you should lie down.”

 

She wretched herself from his arms. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed. “You stay away from me.” 

 

Sarek reached for her again, a subconscious need to comfort her. “Why are you afraid?”

 

“You’re lying to me.” She pointed at him accusingly. “You can’t be trusted.”

 

“I am not lying,” he insisted. “You saw the pictures. We are married.”

 

“I would never marry you,” she spat venomously. 

 

The Vulcan’s eyes hardened. “I assure you, at one time you felt differently.”

 

“You’re a liar!”

 

“He speaks the truth,” Spock said from the doorway, shocked by the viciousness his mother was displaying. 

 

“You both lie.” She turned her attention toward him. “My son?” She laughed darkly. “Look at you… you’re a Vulcan… an alien. There’s no part of me in you.”

 

“That’s enough,” Sarek snapped. “You are being cruel. You may not speak to us in that manner.”

 

“Go to Hell!” She ran for the doorway and Spock quickly stepped aside to let her by but his father intercepted her. “Move!”

 

“Not until you have regained some control. It is not safe-“ 

 

She slapped him soundly across the face.

 

“Mother!” 

 

Sarek took a much-needed moment to regain his own composure. “As I was saying-“

 

She tried to slap him again but he grabbed her wrist and jerked her up against him. “Stop this at once!”

 

Spock stepped forward and took his father by the shoulders. “Let her go.” Sarek immediately released her wrist. “I mean, let her go.” He backed his father out of the doorway and Amanda made her escape. 

 

“She is too distraught,” Sarek complained. “It’s not safe, she might-“

 

“She is on a starship, not piloting a flitter or running into the Forge. She’ll be safe,” he promised.

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek met up with his son in the corridor. “It has been hours. How can she not be found?”

 

“There are many places to go, and if one doesn’t wish to be found.” Spock crossed his arms and contemplated. “You found Mr. Scott?”

 

“Yes. She was there but he says when he could not dispute what we had told her she ‘worked into a pure flap’ and left. That was a few hours ago.” He sighed softly. “There is no way for the ship’s sensors to locate her?”

 

“She is one of over four hundred humans here,” he reminded his father. “And only essential personnel are chipped. There’s no way to pick her out.” He sighed deeply. “We have checked all the public areas. If she were upset she may be seeking privacy and is in a conference room, perhaps. The captain has offered to send security to find her.”

 

Sarek shook his head. “I would rather not involve anyone more than necessary.”

 

“I understand but… It’s a large ship.”

 

“Then we’d best get started,” Sarek said firmly. He turned back the way he’d come to begin his search anew. 

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek entered the ship’s chapel. He paused in the doorway, closed his eyes, and allowed himself the sense of elation and relief that he had found her unharmed. He stepped inside so the door would close. She was on the floor, her head cradled on her arms as she leaned on one of the cushioned benches. He carefully moved toward her, watchful in case she reacted poorly to him. He stopped several feet away. He could see her eyes were open, but she had not noticed his presence. “You have always said one will find that which is lost in the least likely location.” He glanced around the room. “This would be it,” he joked, referencing his wife’s lack of religious conviction, especially compared to his own involvement in his beliefs. She did not respond. Sarek went to the intercom on the wall and notified his son and Doctor McCoy she was found. He approached her cautiously, but she did not react to his nearness. “I am going to sit beside you,” he warned her. “If you attempt to flee, I will stop you. I have, however, been walking for several hours now, and would appreciate it if you did not.” He slowly lowered himself to the floor, satisfied when she ignored him. He leaned casually against the bench, one arm braced upon the bench supporting him. “Thank you,” he murmured. He studied her a moment. “Are you well?” She shook her head, silent tears began sliding down her cheeks. He reached out to wipe them away but she flinched and turned her head away. “Why are you so afraid?”

 

“Why?” she scoffed. “I am trapped on some space ship, I have no idea where. I am missing all knowledge of the majority of my life, and I am alone. Utterly…completely…alone.”

 

“You are not alone,” he disagreed. 

 

“I am,” she lamented. “You can’t possibly understand.”

 

Sarek bristled. “I have a pretty good understanding of the human condition, my wife.”

 

“Don’t call me that!”

 

He sighed. “Very well. My point is I do understand that what you are contending with is frightening, but… I am here.” She shook her head. “Amanda…” He paused wanting her to look at him, but she did not. “Amanda, even if you do not remember me as anything more than Silek’s brother, you do,” he stressed, “know me. We have spent time together. You can trust me.”

 

“I don’t know anything anymore. Silek… isn’t Silek. Maybe you’re not Ambassador Sarek.”

 

Sarek quirked an eyebrow. “That reasoning is not without some logic,” he complimented. “Very well, then. I believe your last memory is of the three of us discussing the universal translator project, and my proposal to hire the two of you to fulfill our part of it.” He refused to be discouraged by her lack of response. “In that case,” he closed his eyes, searching his memory for events from over forty years ago, “you should recall… our trip to the grunion run. We went with a group from the embassy. Silek and I stayed after the rest of the group returned, and the three of us walked the beach. We found a starfish.” He opened his eyes. She was looking at him now. “Yes?” She nodded. “And… ah, your birthday. It would have been just a few weeks before the translator discussion. Silek gave you a tiny cake-“

 

“A cupcake,” she corrected softly.

 

“Yes, and he gave you a gift.”

 

“And you teased him terribly for doing it,” she scolded, but her lips were slightly curved up at the corners. 

 

“Yes,” Sarek admitted. “

 

“And,” she smiled earnestly now, “you tried to convince him he had to sing Happy Birthday to me as some sort of sacred Human tradition.”

 

“And he nearly did it. He would have, I’m certain, if you weren’t so emotionally effusive to permit him to see through my attempts.”

 

She laughed softly, then fresh tears welled in her eyes. “I miss him. It seems silly, since it’s only been a couple of weeks to me, but I still miss him.”

 

“His absence is profound,” Sarek agreed. He reached out to gently wipe an errant tear away. She flinched but allowed the touch. “I regret you must mourn him twice.”

 

“Me? He’s your brother.”

 

“He was your brother too,” he reminded her gently.

 

The door slid apart and Spock strode in followed by the doctor. “Are you all right?” he asked her without preamble. 

 

She nodded, not meeting his eyes. 

 

“Remind me never to play hide and seek with you,” McCoy joked, running his medi-scanner over her. 

 

“Hide and seek?” She looked toward the doctor, then all three of them. “Were you all looking for me?”

 

“Of course,” Spock confirmed.

 

“Why?”

 

Spock squatted down beside her. “We’re family.”

 

She looked away from him, unable to maintain eye contact. 

 

“I’d like you to come down to sickbay with me for a bit, just to talk,” McCoy promised.

 

When she nodded her consent Sarek rose from the floor and held his hand out to assist her. She stared at it for a prolonged moment, uncertain, then hesitantly took it. 

 

~~**~~

 

They entered their suite together, the walk completely silent, but Sarek had insisted on walking her to sickbay and back. Once inside she rolled her neck and stretched, then sat tiredly upon the couch. 

 

“We missed end meal,” Sarek commented, watching her from across the room. “Are you hungry?”

 

“No,” she murmured.

 

He sat on the couch, at the opposite end, to give her space. She immediately got up. 

 

“I’m going to bed.” She didn’t wait for a reply.

 

Sarek meditated for several hours but finally achieved a sense of tranquility and went to bed. He was jarred awake some time later, so abruptly he could not immediately calculate how long had passed. He listened carefully, but could hear no sound, and was beginning to wonder if he had, perhaps, had a nocturnal disturbance when a loud wailing cry came to him from Amanda’s room. He threw back his blankets and ran to her room, but the door was locked. She continued to scream, a sound full of pain and despair that tore at his controls. He pounded his fist against her door. “Amanda! Amanda, it is I. Open your door!” Her wailing continued. He tried to pry the door open, tried commanding the computer to override her lock, but to no avail. He called to her again, pleaded with her, tried to reach her through the bond. Suddenly she stopped. He waited, his forehead pressed against her door. He could hear some sounds, barely distinguishable but he thought some more subdued crying, perhaps. Had he reached her? He tried again and could not feel more than a tiny filament of their bond, but perhaps she had felt him. Maybe it had been enough. Sarek turned, leaning his back against the door and slid down until he sat on the floor. He concentrated on that tiny thread, refused to let it go for even a moment, until she emerged the next morning.

 

~~**~~

 

“Sarek, Monty informs me we will be reaching Earth in about two weeks,” she stated without preamble upon entering their suite.

 

Sarek, who was working at the desk, looked up. “That is my understanding,” he said evenly, refusing to acknowledge her reference to the engineer, which he suspected she was spending even more time with than previously just to spite him. 

 

“I need some… information.” He indicated she should continue. “If what you say is true…” She sighed. “When we get to Earth I’m going to find a place to live.”

 

Sarek pretended to focus on his work. “You live at the embassy.”

 

“Yes, well… I don’t think that’ll be appropriate anymore.”

 

He sighed softly. “It is a large building, Amanda. You can have your own living space.”

 

She hugged herself and paced away from him. “I didn’t want to get into this now, but… When we get to Earth I intend to… file for divorce.”

 

He stood up abruptly. “No,” he whispered. 

 

“I just need to know what I have, credit-wise, so I can plan ahead.”

 

“Amanda,” he strode over to her and tried to take her hands, but she denied him. “I do not want this.”

 

“That’s… understandable, Sarek, but there’s no other option.”

 

“There are options,” he insisted. “Several.”

 

“None I am willing to consider. I’ve made my decision.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why?” she scoffed. “Because…Sarek…I don’t know you. I don’t trust you. I can’t be married to someone who’s basically a stranger.”

 

“You can trust me, aduna. You know me, even by your recollections, you have known me for months.” He shook his head. “I cannot accept this,” he said stubbornly.

 

“Trust you? Sarek… You’ve done nothing but lie to me for weeks!”

 

“No,” he denied.

 

“Yes! If you’re not lying about this whole…marriage idea, then you’ve been lying to me since I woke up on this damn ship about everything else!”

 

He shook his head adamantly. “We told you, when you awoke, that we were keeping information about your life from you so that you could remember it on your own.”

 

“And I remember none of it.” She moved further from him. “Please, Sarek, let’s be reasonable about this. I must know what I have in resources and…and whether I will be able to retain my embassy employment.”

 

“What?” he asked blankly, his mind unfocused.

 

“I know you’re Vulcan, but I know this still must be…disturbing. Even so, I would like to continue my work, if possible.” She saw his eyes dart quickly toward her then away. “Oh my god…” A knot formed in her stomach. “I don’t work for the embassy, do I?” She shook her head, emotion thickening her voice. “That was a lie too?”

 

“Not…precisely.”

 

“What about the Calder translations? None of that was real?”

 

“Calder is real.” He tipped his head apologetically. “Your translations were…unnecessary.”

 

“Unnecessary?” Her voice rose dramatically. “Do you how any hours, no, days you made me waste?”

 

“I was trying to please you.” He sighed. “To fulfill what you seemed to be expecting of me.”

 

She threw her hands up. “Great, I’m unemployed.” She glared at him. “How long, Sarek? How long since I last worked?”

 

He hesitated, which seemed to anger her further. “You raised our son, Amanda. Spock…was special. He required special care, particularly when he was young.”

 

“And when he was no longer young?”

 

“I was a full-time Federation ambassador. We traveled often. It didn’t seem logical for you to take on any other career, and you didn’t seem to desire it.”

 

“So I have nothing?” she exclaimed.

 

“You have all that I have,” he replied calmly. 

 

“I don’t want what’s yours, Sarek, I want what’s mine. What I earned.” She paced away from him. “How did I get into this mess,” she murmured to herself. “No job, no money. Completely dependent.” She rubbed her temples as another headache took hold. “Convenient for you, I guess.”

 

“Pardon me?” He looked over to her. “Explain that comment,” he ordered darkly.

 

She spun around to face him. “You make me leave my planet, all my family and friends. You make me dependent on you for everything. Makes it rather difficult to walk away, doesn’t it?”

 

“I see,” he murmured wondrously. “That…is a rather harsh accusation to make, Amanda. Especially against one you claim is a stranger to you.” He moved toward the counter to pour himself some k’vass. “The fact is, I did none of those things.” He took a drink then stabbed her with his stare. “You chose to be my wife, you chose to leave Earth, and you chose to give up your career. I will admit the role you have taken on as an ambassador’s wife is helpful, but I do not need you to perform my duties. If you will recall, I had been doing so for many years without you quite successfully.”

 

“So you say,” she said flippantly.

 

“You went through a great sacrifice to become my wife and bear our son, overcame many obstacles. But you did so willingly, even eagerly.”

 

She rubbed her temples, her face scrunching in pain. “So you say,” she repeated, taking a seat upon the couch.

 

“It is unfortunate you find yourself regretting choices you have made,” he retorted and stalked over to her, “however since you know that you do not remember neither your actions nor motivations during those years, it is quite presumptuous to declare them mistakes.” He loomed over her. “So say I,” he finished for her.

 

“Leave me alone…please,” she said tiredly, continuing to press against her head.

 

Sarek watched her struggle with her pain. He squatted down beside her. “Amanda,” he said gently, “you have been under great physical and emotional stress. Do you not think making drastic changes in your life right now would be unwise?”

 

“Go away!” she hissed. “I don’t want to talk to you.” She stood up, now looming over him. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you!” She ran into her bedroom. Sarek heard the lock engage.

 

~~**~~

 

“Mister Spock,” Uhura called to him from her station.

 

Spock pulled his head out of his scanner and turned toward her. 

 

“It’s your mother, sir. She’s requesting a person-to-person call to Earth.”

 

“Indeed?” Spock leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in contemplation.

 

“I told her such requests, when we’re this far out, are reserved for emergencies, but…” she shrugged. “She seems upset.”

 

“Put it through, Lieutenant. Put it on my account.” He turned back to his scanners, then sat back again, frowning.

 

~~**~~

 

“Spock! It’s so good to-- Oh, hello dear.”

 

Amanda stared at the elderly woman on the screen. She was thinner, frailer, and of course, what was once mostly smooth skin and auburn hair was now very wrinkled and white; but her identity was unmistakable. “Mom?” Amanda started crying in earnest.

 

“Mandy… What’s wrong?”

 

“Oh, Mom… Where do I begin?”

 

~~**~~

 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sarek,” McCoy sympathized. He was half-sitting on an empty biobed. The ambassador stood rigid before him with hands clasped tightly together by his waist. “That must be very upsetting.”

 

Sarek blinked at him. “Such things do not affect my functioning, Doctor McCoy, therefore warrant no considerations. What needs addressing is the change in Amanda’s behaviors.”

 

“Spock…uh…he said she had pretty much…rejected him. She won’t even speak to him.”

 

“He spoke of this with you?” Sarek asked, surprised.

 

“Well… I think he was hoping for an explanation. I told him I thought it was probably just the shock, but it doesn’t sound like much has changed.”

 

“Spock is not the only one she’s rejected. She informed me this evening she intends to divorce me as soon as we reach Earth.”

 

Now it was McCoy’s turn to be surprised.

 

~~**~~

 

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry for what you’re going through. It sounds just dreadful, but at least you’re okay.”

 

Amanda nodded as she blew her nose. “I will be on Earth in a couple of weeks, Mom. I need… I need to come stay with you for a while. Is that okay?”

 

“Of course,” Nell laughed. “You guys are always welcome. You know that. Any chance Spock will join you?”

 

Amanda scowled. “Spock? No! No one is coming with me. I need to get away from them.”

 

“Away from…who? From Sarek and Spock?” she asked, astonished.

 

“Yes! Of course. That’s why I need to stay with you. Just until I can find a job and save up some credits after the divorce.”

 

“Divorce!” Nell frowned worriedly. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Mom,” she exclaimed, befuddled. “He’s not even… I don’t even know him. There’s no way I’m going to stay married to that man!”

 

Nell lips pressed together in a thin line. “I see.” She took a deep breath and looked her daughter over carefully. “Darling, I am very, very sorry for what you are going through. I can’t imagine how hard it must be,” she said kindly. “But you listen to me, young lady,” her voice turned stern,” because I’m going to tell you a few things about ‘that man,’ and you’re going to listen.”

 

~~**~~

 

“I… I can’t help but feel responsible for this.” McCoy stood up, shaking his head sorrowfully. “I really thought this was a better way.”

 

Sarek pressed his lips together. “I do not seek to assign blame, Doctor. Perhaps this would have been her reaction regardless of when or how she learned the facts. It may have merely delayed matters. Please focus on what can be addressed. Besides her behaviors, it seems as though her headaches are occurring more frequently, and perhaps more severely. And her dreams, they are much worse.”

 

“She was supposed to let me know if her dreams continued.”

 

“They had stopped,” Sarek admitted. “But since…that night they have occurred nightly. They are…most disturbing.”

 

“Father,” Spock strode into sickbay at a near run, slightly out of breath. “Lieutenant Uhura is patching a person-to-person call for you into McCoy’s office. It’s Grandmother.”

 

Sarek frowned. “Something must have happened to Soran,” he surmised worriedly. 

 

Spock shook his head. “Not that one. It’s Grandma Nell.”

 

The intercom in the doctor’s office whistled. Sarek looked at both younger men in turn, then slowly made his way into the office.

 

“Grandma Nell?” McCoy asked.

 

“Mother’s mother,” Spock supplied, watching his father through the open doorway. 

 

“Eeks,” McCoy grimaced and joined Spock in observing the ambassador. Sarek stood at near military attention in front of the viewscreen, speaking very little, but nodding quite frequently. Every now and then they could hear a softly uttered ‘Yes, T’sai’ or ‘No, T’sai’. The few times Sarek attempted to speak in length he appeared to be cut off. McCoy couldn’t help but feel badly for him. 

 

At last Sarek reached for the viewscreen control, then rejoined the others. “I must go check on your mother.”

 

“I allowed the call to be placed to Earth,” Spock apologized. “It didn’t occur to me that-“

 

“Kaiidth, Spock’am.” He turned to McCoy. “You will see her soon?”

 

“By the end of my shift,” he promised. He sighed as he watched the Vulcans leave together. “What a mess,” he muttered under his breath.

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek and Spock entered the suite together. “Amanda,” Sarek called out, looking toward the lavatory then her suite. She promptly came through her bedroom door.

 

“Hi,” she said tentatively. 

 

Sarek took in her red-rimmed eyes and diminutive poise. “You should have told me you wanted to call your parents,” he gently scolded. “I had not told them of your accident.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she said meekly. “I just needed to talk to someone.”

 

“Someone you trust,” he clarified. 

 

She nodded. “You talked to my mom?”

 

Sarek glanced away in his version of an eye roll. “Indeed.”

 

Amanda walked over to them. “What did she say?”

 

“She expressed...great displeasure of the current state of affairs,” he said carefully. 

 

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Boy, that’s no joke.” 

 

Sarek’s eyes softened with amusement. “Was it helpful to speak with her?”

 

“Um,” she crossed her arms and shrugged. “Yes and no.”

 

She glanced over at Spock, her face clouded over with emotion. She walked over to him. “I’m so, so very sorry for the things I said.”

 

Spock’s face remained completely blank. He looked to his father who caught his gaze, then resumed studying his wife. Spock looked down at his mother, who was standing very close to him now, scrutinizing him. 

 

“Spock,” she tried the name out. “Spock…my…” Her face clouded over again. “My son. Spock.” She smiled shyly at him, then cautiously placed her arms around him. Spock raised an eyebrow in surprise, and looked to his father who appeared as astonished as he. Spock placed his hands upon her back just as tentatively. She stepped back and released a pent up breath. 

 

“I owe you an apology too, Sarek.” She moved over in front of him. “My behavior has been…inappropriate. I have known you as Silek’s brother, and as the Vulcan ambassador, and in both instances you were always kind and trustworthy. My accusations about you were…unfair.” She smiled wanly. ”You were right that I don’t know why I made the choices I made, but I must have had good reason, so I shouldn’t be so quick to throw them away. I…won’t be filing for a divorce right away.”

 

Spock’s eyebrow flew upward. “Divorce?”

 

“I am pleased, Amanda,” Sarek said simply.

 

She held up her hand, stalling him. “Now I can’t promise you forever, not anymore. I’m… I’m really trying to wrap my head around all of this,” she gestured to the two Vulcans, “but it’s just…so…”

 

“All I ask, at this time, is that you allow us to help you.” Sarek stepped closer to her and held his hands out, palms up, an invitation for her to place her hands upon his in a Vulcan embrace. Amanda hesitated then stepped into his arms and slid her arms gingerly around his waist. There was nothing hesitant in the way he held her against him.

 

“I allowed the call to be placed to Earth,” Spock boasted.

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek and Amanda brought their trays to the table where McCoy and Spock were awaiting them. As soon as they made appropriate greetings and settled into their seats McCoy pulled a pouch from his pocket and slid it across the table to Amanda. 

 

“One is for your headaches, the other to help you sleep. The instructions are on the bottles.”

 

“Thank you,” she murmured, accepting the pouch hesitantly.

 

“I had a chance to compare your brain scans, and I think I know why you’re having headaches.”

 

Amanda noted the Vulcans lean forward with interest 

 

“The damaged area from before is changing. Not a lot, but definitely changing.”

 

“Shouldn’t we be discussing this in private, Doctor?”

 

McCoy was frozen by the cerulean frost facing him from across the table. “Oh… Yes, of course, Amanda. I’m sorry.”

 

She glanced around the table noticing that neither Vulcan would meet her gaze. She sighed. “That was wrong, wasn’t it?”

 

“It’s your prerogative,” McCoy assured her.

 

“No, I mean…before, I wouldn’t have cared.”

 

“As long as you comply with the doctor’s advice, Amanda,” Sarek said, “the rest is--“

 

“No,” she interrupted. “Go ahead, Doctor. It’s okay.”

 

McCoy took a deep breath. “All right… There is definitely an area of change around the damaged area. I’m not sure if it’s actual repair of damaged cells or plasticity, which is when the surrounding cells develop new synapses and reassign themselves to take over the function of the damaged cells, but…something is going on.”

 

“If it is this…plasticity, does that mean her memories will not return?” Sarek asked.

 

McCoy nodded regretfully. “Frankly, even if the damaged cells are repairing, I don’t know if her memories will remain intact.”

 

“Then what do you suggest?” Spock asked. 

 

Silence reigned for some time. “Kaiidth,” Amanda murmured quietly. She looked up to see Sarek eyeing her suspiciously. “My memories will either return, or they won’t. I think… I think…” She pressed her lips together. “First of all,” she said sternly. “I think we start asking me what we should do about my memories. No one else.” Sarek and Spock nodded silently. She glanced at McCoy. “No offense, Doctor.” He waved off her concern. “I think we should act as much as possible like nothing happened. Treat me the way you would always treat me. Got it?” The Vulcans were watching her, both nodded again. “I think we stop acting like I’m some fragile mental case. I insist on that, in fact.” Again they nodded. “And if I ask a question I want it to be answered. Honestly. Is that understood?” Again the Vulcans nodded simultaneously. Amanda sighed and looked at McCoy. “Quiet bunch, aren’t they?”

 

McCoy nodded.

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek sat at his desk, well into the ship’s night. His government had finally sent him some new intel, but nothing definitive. Nevertheless, he worked at correlating this new information with that they had accumulated prior. He would then correlate that with what was known of the various species Doctor McCoy had suggested based upon Amanda’s memories during their meld of them feeling cold. 

 

Amanda screamed. Sarek did not startle, but did rise and quickly go to her room to calm her. This had become a nightly event for her, and now he didn’t even attempt to retire himself until she endured this torment. At his request, she had begun to leave her door unlocked when sleeping. He had never seen sleep disturbances such as these -- night terrors, is what the doctor called them. Amanda was sitting up in bed, her eyes open but unseeing, screaming as she attempted to fend off an invisible attacker. Sarek crawled onto her bed and swept her into his arms, ignoring any attempts she made to strike him, and laid down with her. He held her close, murmuring reassuring words into her ear even as she continued to wail and scream. He touched her face and found their link, focused on fanning the small flame, bringing it to life, at least enough to reach her mind and calm her. Her screaming stopped, as did her struggles, her cries changed into something more desolate, something more hopeless. She turned in his arms, burying her face in his neck. He held her tight, nuzzled her, and pressed his lips against her face knowing she was unaware of his actions and would never remember them come morning. He’d be gone before then.

 

~~**~~

 

Days later, it was late when Sarek opened his eyes, suddenly roused from his light meditation (distinctly different from being a nap, as his wife was wont to call it) by the chimes of his bedroom door. "Come," he called out hesitantly, rising up to rest on his elbows on the bed. 

 

The door swished open to reveal his wife, in her nightclothes, wringing her hands nervously at her waist. He pushed himself to a sitting position. "Is something wrong?"

 

"I didn't mean to wake you." 

 

"You did not. I was meditating." 

 

She nodded distractedly. "I shouldn’t have disturbed that either." 

 

Sarek got up to stand before her. "It is no disturbance," he assured her, studying her carefully. "Are you unwell?" 

 

She shook her head, staring resolutely at the floor. Several moments passed in silence causing her to glance up in curiosity only to find the ambassador watching her patiently. She quickly glanced away. "I just wanted to apologize, again, for my behavior the other day. I didn't…it's just…." 

 

"The cause was sufficient. I imagine at the point during our…association as you recall, if someone had told me what the future held I would be disbelieving as well." 

 

"I hope I didn't offend you. I didn't mean to." 

 

"Offense," Sarek began slowly, "is…" He lifted a brow, waiting. 

 

"A human emotion?" She shrugged at his approving nod. "Nevertheless, it couldn't have been flattering. It's nothing against you personally, of course, it's just I can't imagine how..." She had taken a step into the room and turned as the door closed, startling her. She turned back to Sarek with a sigh. "How?" She gestured back and forth between them. She crossed her arms and paced a few feet. She stopped facing the wall, her back toward Sarek. "Were we in love, or…was I?" She looked at him over her shoulder. "It wasn't a political thing, was it?" 

 

"It was not political." Sarek took a step toward her. "Your words would indicate you now accept what we have told you." 

 

"Yes," she murmured. "Well, the pictures…my mom… Clearly I am missing a large part of my memory, and I can't think of any reason for you to go to these lengths to make this all up." She turned back to look at him, her eyes narrowing in scrutiny. "Besides…it actually makes certain things I've noticed since waking up make sense." Her eyes strayed to the holopic device on the bedside table. "May I?"

 

Sarek followed her pointed finger. "Of course. It is yours." He followed her, watching as she sat on the bed and flipped through the digital holo-frame. She had stopped on a picture of the three of them at her parents' ranch in Minnesota. They had been preparing to leave when Nell, Amanda's mother, had come rushing from the house with a camera insisting they pose for a family portrait. They were standing in front of the barn, and in the corner of the shot one of their thoroughbreds could be seen watching the goings-on. "Does that one seem familiar to you?" 

 

Amanda brushed her finger lovingly across the horse. "Well, that's definitely my parents' place. I'd recognize Butternutt anywhere, but…" she shook her head slightly, “this boy here… He's that man, the one I thought was Silek?" 

 

"He is your son, our son. Spock." 

 

"Our son," she murmured wondrously. "Do we have others?" 

 

"No." 

 

"Why?" She looked up at him. "Do I have trouble getting pregnant?" 

 

"Getting pregnant…no." Sarek sat upon the bed beside her. "But bringing a Vulcan/human fetus to term proved to be much more difficult. There were…several failures. It was quite difficult on your body. Once we succeeded with Spock we decided to be content with that and preserve your health." 

 

She looked toward him, watching him carefully for any change of expression. "Did you want more children?" She thought she'd detected a slight tremor of muscle along his jaw, but if so it disappeared quickly. 

 

"I wanted you more." He took a deep breath, looking away. "And, eventually, you also saw the logic in ensuring you remained alive and healthy to mother the child you did have rather than risk yourself only for the possibility of another child." 

 

Amanda glanced back at the holo-frame and advanced to the next picture. "Sounds like we've had a pretty tough time." 

 

Sarek raised an eyebrow quizzically. "All marriages have their challenges. Perhaps our own stem from a unique source, but they do not seem to differ much from those of other marriages. Certainly infertility is an issue for homogenous couples, be they Vulcan or human." 

 

"I’m not smiling in a lot of these." 

 

Sarek glanced at the photo on display. A picture of the two of them at an Earth embassy reception on Vulcan. "That was taken on Vulcan." 

 

"So? Do I hate living on Vulcan or something?" 

 

"Not at all; however, while on Vulcan - at least in public or when you are with me representing Vulcan officially -- you try to…curb your emotionalism." 

 

"Why would I do that? Why would I want to live somewhere I had to pretend to be something I’m not?" 

 

"You do not pretend." Sarek shook his head in frustration. "Even when we first met you had a basic understanding of Vulcans, Amanda. You understand the expression of emotion is unpleasant to us. It is merely out of respect for my--" 

 

"Then why would I want to live there?" She laid the frame on the side table and stood up, pacing away. "If I was so happy then why would I choose pictures where I look miserable to keep?" 

 

Sarek stood up, grabbing the holo-frame and pointed at the display. "This was a very pleasant evening for us," he insisted. "Every picture you put in here is representative of enjoyable times in your life." 

 

She spun around to confront him. "You're positive that we had a good marriage?" 

 

"We have a good marriage," he corrected. 

 

Amanda blinked as tears sprung to her eyes. "Then why would I forget it?" 

 

Sarek gently set the frame down and stepped toward her, his voice soft. "T'hy'la, you were injured. Someone did this to you, caused you to forget. Our marriage…our son…you are devoted to us." 

 

"And I was happy?" 

 

"I promise you were." He slowly reached for her hands, relieved when she permitted him to take them. "I would not permit you to live otherwise." 

 

She sniffled. "I so desperately want to remember." 

 

"Of course," he murmured, allowing his shields to drop so he might feel the tiniest brush of her essence again. "You are fatigued." 

 

She nodded. "I keep having those dreams." 

 

He nodded. "Are you taking the pills Dr. McCoy gave you?"

 

"I can't take them. They don't stop the dreams, just make it harder for me to wake up from them." She shuddered. 

 

"I know they are unpleasant--" 

 

"They're horrifying!" 

 

"You do realize they are quite likely memories rather than random dreams. This is quite possibly an indication your mind is healing, or trying to." 

 

"I can't stand them," she spat, pulling her hands away. "Why can't I dream of any of these happy memories I should have?" 

 

"Is there anything I can do?" 

 

She glanced away nervously. "Well… I've been thinking…" 

 

Sarek noted her increased respirations and she was again playing with her fingers. "Elucidate." 

 

"Do you remember the other day? When you kissed me?" 

 

"Yes," he said regrettably. "I apologize if I was too--" 

 

"I think I remembered something." 

 

Sarek took a deep breath and nodded. "I wondered." 

 

"I didn't realize it the time, of course. I thought it was just…um…impure thoughts." She blushed as his brow rose knowingly. "Anyway, so I was thinking perhaps the best way for me to get my memories back is to try to live my life as normally as possible…the way I lived before my accident." 

 

"I see." Sarek considered it for several minutes. "I can see no harm in it. Replicating your daily routines on the ship will not be entirely possible, but I will assist in any way I can." 

 

"Thanks," she smiled gratefully. 

 

Sarek bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. "No doubt the recovery of your memories would be enhanced with adequate sleep." 

 

"Ooh," she exclaimed, laughing in surprise. "That wasn't at all subtle." 

 

"Subtlety has never been my strong suit." 

 

Amanda brushed past Sarek and sat on the bed once again. She looked at him, taking a shaky breath. 

 

"Nor yours, it would seem." 

 

"Is this…you know…inappropriate?" 

 

"Not at all," he remarked, and walked around to the opposite side of the bed. He watched her stiffen as he slid beneath the blankets. "Are you certain you want this?" 

 

"I want to remember." She inhaled deeply, holding it a few seconds before releasing it and laying back against the pillow, pulling the blanket over herself. 

 

Sarek turned on his side, rested his head on his hand, and watched her. She was poised precariously upon the edge of the bed in an unnaturally straight position. "You do not look comfortable." 

 

She licked her lips nervously. "I'm not. This doesn't feel right." 

 

"Perhaps you shouldn’t push yourself in this…particular area." 

 

"No," she said sharply. "Who knows what little thing might trigger my memories? I have to do everything I did before, exactly like I did before." She turned to him suddenly. "I'm not on your side, am I?" 

 

Sarek shook his head. "I have no preference; however, this is the usual arrangement you seem to prefer." 

 

She sighed fretfully. "And we sleep together every night?" 

 

"We do, except on those occasions I am on assignment and you do not accompany me." Sarek lay back down, staring at the ceiling. "Or when you are extraordinary displeased with me." He was pleased to hear her responding giggle. 

 

"That sounds like me." 

 

He grunted softly. 

 

"What happens when I am 'extraordinarily displeased' with you? Do I make you sleep on the couch?" 

 

"We do not have a couch. No, on those occasions, which are rare, you… You used to sleep in a guest room, but since Spock left home you have taken to sleeping in his room." 

 

"And what about you? What happens when you get angry at me?" She turned her head in time to catch him shaking his. "Oh…don't give me that. My father always told me I could drive a saint to drink. I can only imagine how crazy I could drive a Vulcan. Besides, I know for a fact I've ticked off your brother a time or two." 

 

"There…may have been a few occasions I required more meditation than usual." 

 

She giggled softly, returning to her study of the ceiling. "You know," she began casually. "I'm actually surprised to hear Vulcan couples share a bed because I seem to remember…" she paused, thinking. "Yes, I'm quite certain when it came up in conversation with Silek one time he acted as though the concept was bizarre to him." 

 

"It undoubtedly was. Vulcan couples do not routinely share a sleeping surface." 

 

"Oh," she sighed softly. "Then...you do it because I make you?" 

 

"Not precisely. It is something that…evolved…during the early stages of our marriage." 

 

"Evolved how?" He was silent for so long that she looked at him to see if he'd perhaps fallen asleep. 

 

"Lights off." The room plunged into utter darkness and there was another insufferable moment of silence in which she wondered if he would answer at all. "In the first days, I maintained a separate bedroom. On nights when we…bonded…we, of course, slept beside each other until morning." 

 

"Bonded?" 

 

"Yes. Bonded…" He sighed softly. "Soon I realize it was illogical to maintain a room I was not often occupying. You later turned it into a nursery and then eventually into your sitting room." 

 

"Bonded," she murmured, bemused. "Are you saying… Do you mean we had a lot of sex?" She could hear the rustle of the bedding as he shifted. 

 

"To put it somewhat crassly." 

 

"Oh." She struggled to keep the smile out of her voice. "So do we...still…have a lot of sex?" There was another pause which for some reason only added to her humor. 

 

"'A lot' is a comparative term. Not as much as in the beginning of our marriage, but by Vulcan terms I believe 'a lot' would apply." 

 

"Oh…good for us," she said tightly, giggles threatening to burst from her chest. The bedding rustled again, and from the dip in the mattress she could tell he had turned onto his side. 

 

"You find this amusing. Why?" 

 

"No, I clearly said 'good for us'." 

 

"It is good for us," he said sharply. 

 

"Okay...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to anger you." 

 

"I am not," he insisted. 

 

"Right, I forgot." She folded her arms across her waist. "I didn't mean to cause you to require extra meditation, then." 

 

"You always have to push," he reprimanded, his tone once again subdued although he was irked when she burst into laughter at his pique. "It is not a favorable trait." 

 

"I know. I'm shameful, really. And it only gets worse when I'm uncomfortable." 

 

"I have noticed." 

 

"Too bad you didn't know that before you married me, eh?" 

 

"I did know it." She fell silent, somber, based on her shallow, regular breaths. "You do not know what we share, Amanda." 

 

"I'm sorry. I really am. I know I should be taking this all more seriously, but it's hard when…when it seems so unreal." 

 

"As you say." 

 

"If what you say is true, then I've lost a lot more than just memories." She swallowed hard against a sudden lump in her throat. "I want it back. All of it." 

 

"As do I, aduna." 

 

She sighed fretfully. "This isn't working." 

 

"You have just begun. You cannot judge an experiment with so little empirical data." 

 

"Perhaps." She was silent for precisely zero point eight four minutes. "Do you… Do you think it'd be worthwhile to attempt the same…um…conditions…that caused the last flash of memory?" 

 

Sarek studied her, his keener vision allowing him to make out the majority of her features. "Are you asking me to kiss you?" 

 

"Do you want to kiss me?" she asked, chewing her bottom lip. 

 

"I am not opposed to the idea." 

 

"That's hardly an enthusiastic response," she muttered. 

 

Sarek allowed his lips to twitch in the darkness. "Are you certain this is what you want?" 

 

"I don't see how it could harm anything." 

 

Sarek slowly reached across her waist and pulled her closer. She gasped and her hands immediately pressed against him defensively. "That is hardly an enthusiastic response," he parroted. 

 

"You startled me." 

 

He lifted his hand to caress her cheek and again she flinched from his touch. "I forget how poorly you see in the dark." 

 

"I can see perfectly fine in the dark, thank you," she said with shaky indignation. 

 

He moved closer, allowing his breath to caress her lips. "For a human," he qualified before pressing his lips against hers. She stiffened initially, but he remained undeterred and soon she relaxed and began to hesitantly move against him. 

 

Amanda sighed in disappointment as he lifted away from her. "Nothing-" Her words were cut off when he captured her lips again, stronger this time, more passionate. She gasped as warmth started to pool in her groin...

 

She sat abruptly upon the hard mattress, pressed by his hot - were they always this hot? - hands as he impatiently worked at the fastenings to her garment. She nervously glanced around the room noting its complete lack of any furnishings other than a few tapestries on the stone walls depicting Vulcan couples in various states of embrace. He tugged hard on the front of her robe, ripping several of the ties, and pushed her onto her back. Instantly he was covering her, pressing his feverish palm against her bare breast, his lips devouring the skin over her clavicle. Her nipple puckered as it suddenly cooled when his hand left her breast. She felt a hard, hot presence press against her center and instinctively clamped her thighs together, grabbing his wrist with her hand. 

 

"Relax," he murmured, pressing a kiss upon her breast. 

 

"Wait," she pleaded. 

 

"You are my wife," he reminded her gruffly. "Look at me." 

 

She forced her eyes to meet his glazed fanatical look. 

 

"You are my wife," he said in the strained, raspy voice he'd had since the ceremony had begun. "My life depends upon you, upon this." His eyes roamed rakishly over her body. "You know I will not hurt you." He wedged his knee between her legs, prying them open, and positioned himself atop of her. 

 

"Sarek…" 

 

He pressed close to her, his lips caressing her ear. "I cherish thee." 

 

From somewhere close, she heard the chimes of bells…

 

Amanda suddenly became aware of Sarek's face looming close. "What the hell was that?" she whispered fervently. 

 

"You remembered something?" 

 

"I… I don't know. It's gone. I…heard bells."

 

Sarek rolled away back onto his side. "Can you be more specific?" 

 

She swallowed hard and shook her head. "No…just…a lot of tiny bells." She turned toward the dark form next to her. "Does that mean anything to you?" 

 

"Possibly. Do you recall anything else?" 

 

"No," she spit out disgustedly. "Why did you stop?" 

 

"Your attention was…elsewhere." 

 

"If you hadn't stopped maybe I would remember more!" She shifted with agitation. "Maybe… Maybe we need to do more." 

 

"More kissing?" 

 

Amanda shrugged in the darkness. "More…everything. Maybe we need to…you know…" He became very still beside her. "Do it?" 

 

"You wish to engage in physical intimacy." 

 

"It makes sense, doesn't it? Every time we've started I start to remember, but lose it when we stop. If we don't stop--" 

 

"That is an inductive fallacy, Amanda." 

 

"We don't know that." She felt him move further away. 

 

"No." 

 

Amanda crossed her arms over her chest; her fingers absently reached up to wipe his taste from her swollen lips. "I thought you were going to help me." 

 

"I am, but not this way." He sat on the edge of the bed, putting his back to her.

 

She scoffed at his words. "Are you my husband or aren't you?" 

 

"I am," he said flatly. 

 

"Then what’s the problem?”

 

“Intimacy out of duty is...unsatisfactory.”

 

“I’ve never known a man to let that deter him.”

 

“I am a Vulcan, not a man,” Sarek turned on the bed to look toward her. “And you haven’t known enough men to make such a statement.”

 

She frowned at him. “I may not remember being with you, but I had relationships before you I remember just fine.”

 

“Only a couple, hardly enough to make a statement that encompasses the entire gender, even for Human males.”

 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe I only told you it was a couple…”

 

Sarek permitted a miniscule smile in the dark. “Are you attempting to elicit jealousy in me?”

 

“Is that possible?”

 

Sarek slid back against his pillow, putting his feet back up. “Vulcans are subject to emotions, strong ones, but we endeavor to control them at all times.”

 

“I know that,” she said dismissively.

 

Sarek stared at her in the dark. “Then I do not understand your question.”

 

“Do you…” she shrugged. “Have you ever…been jealous…over me?”

 

Sarek turned on his side and reached to cup her face, ignoring her flinch, and turned her face toward him. “You are mine,” he said darkly. “I would never permit anyone to take you from me.”

 

His tone left no doubt to the sincerity of his words. “Because…” she waited for him to complete the thought, but he remained silent. “Because…I am your wife?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Like…like a possession?” She began chewing her bottom lip nervously.

 

Sarek puzzled over her words. “My wife,” offered again. “You are mine, as I am yours.” He felt her breath sigh against his lips. “Do you understand?”

 

She pulled away from him to lie on her back. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“It matters,” he countered. “It matters greatly.” 

 

“This is all so frustrating.”

 

“Forgive me,” he reached for her hand, running his fingers gently over hers. “I am not efficient at expressing myself in this manner.”

 

“So there’s no stacks of love poems hidden away in my closet somewhere?”

 

“Certainly not from me.”

 

“Oh.”

 

He noted her disappointment. “That is not to say my…regard does not get expressed in other manners.”

 

“What manner would that be?” She turned her hand over focusing on how his long fingers were gliding over hers in an almost ritualistic manner.

 

“It is difficult to explain, our bonding.”

 

“Bonding…so sex.”

 

“No, it is more than physical intimacy.”

 

“When you touch my hands like this it tingles,” she murmured wondrously.

 

“Your hand tingles?”

 

“My hand…and my head….like an itch in the center of my brain that I can’t scratch.”

 

Sarek nodded. “That is good, Amanda.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“Very.”

 

She paired her fingers as he had his and began stroking his hand, mirroring his path. She glanced up upon hearing him sigh deeply. “Does that feel good?” she whispered.

 

“Very much so,” he murmured contentedly.

 

She smiled. “I think I may have discovered one of your little secrets, Ambassador.” She lifted his hand to her lips and nipped his fingers playfully.

 

He gently pulled his hand away. “Then I should reveal one other. A certain amount of…amorous play is acceptable, but there is a limit that, once breached, it becomes quite difficult for me to regain my…composure.”

 

“Do I cause you to breach that limit?”

 

“You are the only one to make me breach that limit.”

 

She caressed his cheek. “Show me.” 

 

“Take this seriously,” he implored, grabbing her wrist.

 

“Are you saying you could hurt me?”

 

“No,” he insisted, “never.” He shook his head. “I am saying you should not begin something you are not prepared to finish. My ability to remain…I believe you would say gentlemanly, comes into question.”

 

“I think I understand.” She cleared her throat softly. “So, how do I tell when you are…becoming ungentlemanly?”

 

There was a slight hesitation. “I’m uncertain. It’s generally not something you discourage in me.”

 

She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. He immediately responded. 

 

“T’hy’la…”

 

“I’ve been suitably warned. This will work, I know it will.”

 

“And if it does not?”

 

“If it doesn’t… What’s the big deal? We’re married, right?”

 

“We are.”

 

“Okay then,” she sidled up to him, “what are you waiting for?”

 

He leaned into her, capturing her lips. She reciprocated, her hands probing his chest through his tunic. He pressed against her, pushing her back into the mattress, then allowed his hands to roam, finding the hem of her gown and working his way beneath. A strangled whimper escaped her throat stilling him.

 

“It’s ok,” she quickly whispered.

 

“You are shaking.” He pulled his hand free, wrapping his arms around her to pull her against him, warming her. 

 

“It’s ok,” she said again. “I’m just nervous.”

 

“I will not hurt you.”

 

“I know,” she said, then as she realized she really meant it, “I know, but… It’s still our first time, for me.”

 

Sarek brushed his fingers across her lips, remembering their first time, their last time, and the time he thought there would never be another time. “Ashal’vah,” he murmured thickly, reaching for her physically and mentally.

 

~~~**~~~

 

She clung to him, cascading over the peak of ecstasy, calling out to him in a language she had no memory of learning. 

 

He rocked her, yet to reach his precipice, his hand reaching for her PSI points to do what their broken bond was denying him.

 

A force exploded in her mind flooding her in emotions too impossibly strong and alien for her to contain. Tears sprung to her eyes as she lay helpless to the deluge of proclamations and questions the force broadcast. He collapsed upon her, the force slowly receded from her depths until he eventually rolled away. Amanda was suddenly cold and empty. 

 

She gasped for air, trying to fill her lungs and clear the vertigo, but all that came was a sob, then another, until she was biting her lip to keep them silent. Suddenly the room was unbearably hot, the walls closing in on her. She sat up and frantically searched for her gown.

 

“Leave it off,” Sarek commanded lazily from beside her. 

 

She found the nightgown and struggled with untangling it. 

 

Sarek sat up to reach for the garment then noticed her state. “Amanda? What is it?”

 

She slid the gown on, pushing his hand away. 

 

Sarek moved to his knees, reaching for her again, but she evaded his touch. “Tell me what is wrong, aduna.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, stumbling from the bed in the dark. 

 

“Stay,” Sarek begged, tossing aside the blankets to intercede. She fled his room and into hers. He followed, but her door would not slide to permit him in. She had locked it.

 

~~**~~

 

Amanda sat on the hard floor staring down at the pins lined up at the end of her lane, contemplating. The room was dark, the lateness of the hour keeping the crew away even though such rooms were never, technically, closed. 

 

“Lookin’ ta roll some lanes, Lass?” Scotty stepped up onto the lane and sat beside her, facing the opposite way. She shook her head. “Your husband is looking for ye.”

 

“I needed…space. He doesn’t like bowling.”

 

“From what a’ve seen, Vulcans are pretty big on givin’ personal space. Surely running away ’n hiding isn’t necessary?”

 

Amanda frowned and wrapped her arms around her bent knees, hugging them. “I panicked, I guess.”

 

“Do ye want to talk about it?” he asked softly.

 

“Yes,” she sighed with relief. “But I don’t know if…if I’m supposed to.”

 

“Mah lips are sealed,” he promised.

 

She studied him a moment. “Do you know that Vulcans… Well, they can touch another person’s mind and…share their thoughts and feelings?”

 

“Aye.” She became introspective again. “Did Sarek meld with you? Is that what scared ye?”

 

“He… Oh, Monty…he…loves me,” she admitted, bewildered.

 

Scotty smiled. “Aye, Lass. It dunnae take telepathy ta see that.”

 

She shook her head, tears tracking slowly over her cheeks. “You don’t understand, it’s…more than love. It’s… I don’t know how to describe it. I’ve never, ever felt something that strong for someone.” She wiped at her tears. 

 

“Dinnae forget he’s a Vulcan, Amanda. His emotions will be different than ours.”

 

“I don’t love him…”

 

“That ye remember,” Scotty reminded her. “I met you an’ Sarek a few years ago, right here on this ship.” He nodded at her look of surprise. “An’ I can say, without a doubt, that ye are as deeply in love with that Vulcan as he is…whatever he is, with ye.”

 

She sniffled and cleared her throat. “I can’t see you anymore.”

 

“Ah know,” Scotty sighed regretfully. “He said he dinnae want us spending time together.”

 

“He didn’t say anything, but… It hurts him when I’m with you. He,” she hugged herself harder remembering the desperation in his mind. “He’s afraid of losing me.”

 

“Dinnae be sugar coating it, Mandy. The man’s jealous is what he is.”

 

“No…it’s not jealousy.”

 

Scotty shot her a dubious look. “You weren’t in mah office after he saw us kissing tha’ night. Trust me, he was jealous.”

 

She gasped and buried her face in her arms. “I forgot about that!” She looked at him, stricken. “Oh…poor Sarek…”

 

“Poor-“ He looked at her aghast. “Poor Sarek? What about poor Monty? I’m th’ one he was ready ta quarter that night.”

 

“He was?” she asked, astonished.

 

“Aye… If I wasn’t as good-looking and charming as I am…ye might be finding parts o’ me all over the ship.” She giggled, and he chuckled with her. “Come along, Lass. Let’s get ye back to yer Vulcan.”

 

~~**~~

 

Amanda slowed as she neared her quarters. 

 

Scotty took her arm, stopping her, and pulled her in for a brief hug. He kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna miss spending time with ye.”

 

She smiled and nodded. “Forty years… That’s rare.”

 

“Aye.”

 

“There must be something there…”

 

“Aye,” Scotty slid her arm through his and continued their walk. “Of that I’ve no doubt. Tis’ worth searching for.”

 

Amanda nodded. She stopped and pulled her arm from his. “I think I’d better go in alone.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Something tells me… I think I’ve caused him enough trouble for one night.” She shrugged, smiling. “Good night, Monty.”

 

“Night, Lass.” He walked away, leaving her alone in the corridor.

 

Amanda walked to her suite, stopping before she could trigger the door censor. She rubbed her hands over her face, and took several deep breaths to try to calm her nerves. She straightened, took one last deep breath, and stepped through the doorway.

 

She stopped when she heard the doors close behind her. There was no sound in their quarters, no indication of anyone else present. She quietly tiptoed past Sarek’s door, telling herself she didn’t want to disturb him if he were sleeping. She jumped and spun back around when his door opened and he came charging toward her. “Sarek-“ She took an involuntary step backward. 

 

He stopped before her, his face granite, but his eyes widely roamed over her. Suddenly he reached for her hands and placed them on either side of his face, holding them against him.

 

Amanda was immediately awash with feelings of regret and despair. “No…” Hot tears flowed anew, but she paid them no mind as she caressed his face soothingly. “It’s okay.” He released her hands and reached for her, pulling her against him. “I’m okay,” she reassured him. “You didn’t hurt me, I promise.”

 

“You left,” he whispered. “So suddenly…” 

 

“I was scared,” she admitted meekly.

 

He nodded, and she could feel shame flowing from him. “I did not control.”

 

“It was…intense.” She continued to stroke his face.

 

“I wanted to please you.”

 

“You did.” She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him. “It was…nice.”

 

He gently pulled her back so he could look at her. He brushed his hand across her PSI points. “I do not want you to be frightened of this, of the mind touch.”

 

“I’ve never…done that before. I wasn’t expecting it.” She caressed his face. “Sarek…I had…no idea. You hide it so well.”

 

He nodded. “Such high praise,” he jested, accepting her playful swat amicably. He took her hands in his. “I should have remembered, should have gone slow, and explained it prior.” He caressed her cheek. “You must understand… I am used to touching you in certain manners.”

 

“I know. I do understand, just as…you need to understand that, for me, it’s all completely new, and…something maybe I wouldn’t have thought twice about a month ago I might not be comfortable with now.”

 

“I understand,” he promised. “Come. The hour grows late.” He began leading her toward his room. 

 

“Sarek,” she called to him softly as she gently pulled against him. He turned toward her, his countenance questioning. “I think maybe you were right about me not…pushing myself too hard,” she nodded toward his room, “in that regard.”

 

He came up to her and gazed into her eyes. 

 

“I’m sorry, I know I’m being…inconsistent.”

 

He leaned down and brushed his lips gently against hers. “I can wait,” he promised her. 

 

She smiled gratefully at him. 

 

“I want to give you something,” he said, stepping away from her. “It just occurred to me this evening, for which I regret.” He disappeared into his room and came back holding a small padd. “This is your journal.” He held it out to her. “You have kept one since before we met. It will be your memories, through your perception.”

 

“Yes,” she murmured, taking the device from him lovingly. “I mean, this is not the same device I used to have, but then…it wouldn’t be, of course.” She turned it on and skimmed a couple of entries. “Sarek,” she held the device against her chest protectively, “you don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

 

He tipped his head in a shrug, dismissing her gratitude. “It is yours, I am merely returning it.”

 

She stepped forward and placed a chaste kiss against his cheek.

 

~~**~~


	6. Chapter 6

Amanda was on the couch, engrossed in her journal, when she heard the suite’s doors open and close. “Sarek… Is it true the first time we had sex was on the moon?”

 

There was a long pause, making her look up.

 

“I do not believe there are facilities to accommodate such activities on the moon,” Spock commented, looking toward his captain for confirmation. Kirk just shook his head, saying nothing as he tried to ensure the ambassador saw no signs of his amusement. 

 

Amanda blushed, giving Sarek an apologetic look. “I didn’t realize you’d be bringing anyone back with you.”

 

“I didn’t realize you wrote about such things in your journal,” Sarek said drily. He went into his room to retrieve some data discs for the men to review. 

 

“Does that mean it’s not true?” she asked when he returned to the common area. 

 

Sarek glanced at Spock and his commander, who both were staring resolutely at the floor. “Not literally,” he admitted, moving closer to her. “A...facsimile of the moon,” he murmured quietly, “at a carnival your students hosted to raise funds. Can we discuss it later?”

 

She nodded, realizing his answer was more complicated than she had expected. 

 

“You expressed an interest in resuming your activities prior to your accident as normally as possible. Do you still wish this?” he asked in a normal tone. She indicated she would. “Do you wish to eat end meal with us this evening?”

 

“Sure. Want me to meet you in the cafeteria?”

 

“No, that is…not our way. We shall dine in a private dining room, the three of us. I will retrieve you when it is time.” He moved toward the door, Spock and the captain following him. He turned back suddenly. “It will be Vulcan fare,” he warned her.

 

“Yay,” she muttered unenthusiastically. 

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek came out of his bedroom wearing one of his formal robes, a plush fabric, deep brown in color with his family glyphs in gold extending down the front on one side. The lavatory door opened, and a freshly scrubbed Amanda exited wearing her bathrobe. She let out a wolfish whistle. “Very fancy, Ambassador. I thought it was just the three of us eating tonight?”

 

“It is. I thought it would be beneficial to experience a more…traditional Vulcan meal.”

 

“I take it when I ate with you and Silek it wasn’t traditionally Vulcan?”

 

“No, it was quite Terran.”

 

She primped and fluffed her hair in the small mirror. “Anything I need to know for tonight then?”

 

“Do not be concerned,” he reassured her. “If it is not familiar then just consider it a learning experience.”

 

“Let me see if I have anything…suitably fancy,” she teased and headed for her room.

 

“Amanda…” She stopped and turned toward him. “I know you expressed…disapproval toward your Vulcan clothes, but there is a suitable garment in your closet, and I would be most…appreciative, if you would consider wearing it this evening.”

 

Amanda nodded hesitantly. “Sure, Sarek. Show me which one.” She followed him into her room and he immediately opened her closet and pulled out a similarly plush robe, this one dark blue with similar golden glyphs in much smaller form running down the right side of the chest. He handed it to her wordlessly, reached into her closet again to retrieve a pair of matching blue slippers which he placed upon her bed. He gave her one last lingering look, then left her to dress.

 

He was sitting at the desk when she emerged, moving toward the mirror to give herself a final assessment. He arose from his chair and quietly moved to stand behind her, until they both were within the mirror’s frame. 

 

She lifted the collar of her robe and rubbed it against her cheek. “It’s soft,” she murmured, looking at him in the mirror. She sighed. “Well, look at us.”

 

“Indeed,” he murmured. 

 

“It’s…nice,” she judged, fingering the glyphs on her robe. “So? Do I look like a traditional Vulcan wife now?”

 

“No.” He saw her frown thoughtfully into the mirror. He reached up and brushed her curly locks behind her rounded ear. “But I never wanted you to.”

 

~~**~~

 

They entered the private dining room to find their son already waiting for them. Spock, too, was dressed in a plush Vulcan robe nearly identical to his father’s, though lighter in color. He stood when they entered and moved around the table to greet them properly.

 

“Mother,” he said, bowing slightly then stood with his hands out, palms facing upward. 

 

“Hello,” she murmured shyly. 

 

Sarek moved up behind her and took her wrists in his hands. “Like this,” he murmured against her ear, then raised her hands to rest them upon Spock’s. “You may feel his mind brush against yours,” he warned her. “It is acceptable between parent and child.” 

 

She gasped slightly as Spock’s mind reached for hers, but it was a pleasant, feathery touch. She could sense his pleasure at being allowed to do this, and his affection for her, his devotion to her. She took a deep breath, trying to ward off the tears she felt building up.

 

Sarek gently removed her hands from Spock’s, then stepped around her to perform the greeting with their son himself. He then escorted her to her chair placing her at the end of the table with himself and their son on either side of her. Sarek reached for the carafe of water in the center of the table and filled his wife’s glass, then Spock’s, then returned the carafe to its original place. The men waited patiently, but Amanda seemed unaware of her lapse. 

 

Spock softly cleared his throat and, at his father’s nod, performed his mother’s duty and ceremoniously filled his father’s glass. He then gestured toward the covered platters of food. “I would be honored to perform the gadzhak kudaya, Father.”

 

Sarek bowed appreciatively. 

 

Amanda watched as Spock picked up each platter and, in turn, dished out a small amount onto each of their plates while muttering, the entire time, something in Vulcan she could not readily translate. She glanced at Sarek who was also watching their son, contentment clearly evident on his face. 

 

“Are we a religious family then?” she asked, glancing at the contents on her plate.

 

“You would say I am,” Sarek answered quietly, his attention focused on Spock’s ritual. “Spock, less so. You…tolerate it.” Spock had finished dishing out their meal and sat back down. “Well done, my son,” Sarek complimented, not having witnessed his son perform such in over two decades.

 

“Yes, that was lovely,” she rejoined. “Though I couldn’t understand any of it. Was it some…unusual dialect?”

 

“A feast blessing,” Sarek explained, “performed using traditional High Vulcan.”

 

She nodded, then picked up her fork and poked at her food experimentally. 

 

“You like everything served tonight,” Sarek reassured her. “And now we will eat in silence. Attention should be focused solely on the pleasure of eating, and to honor those who prepared it.”

 

Amanda nodded and everyone set about eating. Feeling awkward, she kept looking up at her companions, but never once did they catch her eye. True to their word, their attention was focused solely on their food. She was pleased to note that she did, in fact, enjoy the repast and discovered, with nothing else to entertain her, she paid much more attention to the flavor and texture of what she was eating. Too soon, she realized she had eaten everything on her plate. She looked around to note Spock and Sarek had already finished, their empty plates pushed to the center of the table, and their hands resting clasped on the table before them while they waited. “Sorry,” she said, apologizing for holding them up and pushed her plate to the center as well. She covered her mouth with her hand upon realizing she’d spoken. “Sorry,” she whispered.

 

“The meal is finished,” Sarek told her tolerantly. “Now we may converse.”

 

Spock rose and cleared the table, bringing back with him a pot of tea and some mugs. He served everyone before reseating himself. “I understand you have been reading your journal,” he said sliding a mug of tea before Amanda.

 

“Yes. It’s been…illuminating.”

 

“Indeed,” Spock intoned wryly. “Anything you’d wish to share…at least anything appropriate to share in front of your child?” he teased, noting the pink hue infuse her cheeks. 

 

“Spock’am,” Sarek muttered reproachfully, noting Amanda’s embarrassment. “You and our son enjoy teasing each other in…puzzling ways,” Sarek informed her.

 

“Good to know,” she muttered, eyeing the younger man speculatively. “I will say… It is apparent I was very much in love with your father.”

 

“Was?” Sarek asked quietly, focusing on her.

 

“Well,” she crinkled her nose at him playfully then sipped at her drink, “I’m not that far into the journal.”

 

He nodded, accepting her teasing. “Anything seem familiar as you read?”

 

“No, not yet. In fact…sometimes it seems like it must be fiction.” She turned her attention toward Spock. “So…you’re in Starfleet? A scientist?”

 

“I am.”

 

“He is First Officer of this ship,” Sarek informed her.

 

Spock stilled at the implied pride, confused. 

 

“That’s great,” Amanda enthused. “So…are you married? Any babies?” She gasped excitedly, reaching across the table toward Sarek. “Do we have grandkids?”

 

“No and…no.” Spock answered gently.

 

“Oh. Do you…have a girlfriend?”

 

“No,” he answered simply, staring at his mug. 

 

She watched him a moment. “Boyfriend?”

 

Spock’s gaze snapped to her indignantly. Her grin indicated her teasing. 

 

Sarek cleared his throat softly. “Spock was betrothed but they…parted ways, recently.” He raised an eyebrow at Spock, who nodded once, accepting his explanation as suitable.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Amanda leaned forward to place her hand briefly on Spock’s arm. “It’s her loss.”

 

Spock tipped his head in a shrug. “I doubt she would agree, but thank you.”

 

“Well clearly she’s an idiot, so I don’t care if she’d agree,” she said huffily, earning somewhat bemused glances from her companions. “How recently did you break up?”

 

“Two point eight three years ago, Federation time.”

 

She frowned at him. “Nearly three years ago?” At his nod she glanced toward her husband. “And you still don’t have a girlfriend, Spock?”

 

Spock grew still. “No,” he answered carefully.

 

“Don’t you want a girlfriend?”

 

Spock looked pleadingly at his father, who seemed disinclined to assist. He sighed and looked at his mother. “I…don’t have a need for one, currently.”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask if you needed one, I asked if you wanted one.” Her face brightened. “Want me to help you find one?” She looked at Sarek. “We could find him a girlfriend, don’t you think?”

 

“We most definitely could find him a consort,” Sarek agreed. “However, Amanda, Spock is an adult and it is his choice.”

 

She tsked disapprovingly. “There are a lot of beautiful women right here on this ship,” she pointed out. “Don’t you think, Spock?”

 

“Perhaps,” he hedged, “but I am…satisfied with how things are.”

 

“But--“

 

“Amanda,” Sarek interjected. “Spock may be half human, but he adheres to Vulcan customs and behaviors. Do not forget Silek was unattached the whole time you knew him.”

 

Amanda sighed. “Yes…okay.” She frowned thoughtfully. “But…how can it be against Vulcan customs and behaviors to want a girlfriend?” She looked between the men noting their confusion. “I was your girlfriend,” she pointed out. “If you can have a girlfriend, why can’t sonny-boy, here?”

 

Sarek opened his mouth to speak, then clamped his lips shut. He leaned back in his chair, looking at his son. 

 

Spock sighed resignedly, his father’s look clearly indicating he was now on his own.

 

~~**~~

 

Spock entered his parent’s suite, a package hidden strategically behind his back. His mother was sitting on the couch, engrossed in her journal. He walked up behind her, leaned down until his face was near hers. “For you,” he declared, and held the gift in front of her. She started and looked toward him, then he noticed she’d been crying. “What is it?” He moved around the couch to sit next to her. He placed the package on the table behind the couch. 

 

“I may not be the best company for a Vulcan right now, Spock.”

 

“What makes you sad?” he asked brusquely, ready to defend her against whomever had caused such an offense.

 

She shook her head then tapped the journal in her hand. “Your father says I am indulging in melancholy.”

 

“He may be right.” Spock shook his head at her, baffled. “Anything in here,” he tapped the journal, “is in the past. It is illogical to allow something that no longer exists to cause emotionalism.” 

 

“Spock…” She began to cry anew. “I am…so, so sorry.”

 

“For what?” he asked evenly, leaning his arm against the back of the couch in a casual posture.

 

“You know, here I was thinking… What kind of mother could possible forget her child?”

 

“Mother-“

 

“Only to find out,” she laughed darkly, “that’s just the latest in a long line of ways I was a horrible mother.”

 

Spock sat up. “That’s untrue.”

 

She shook her head. “It’s all right here. An entire chronology of neglect…”

 

“Neglect?” Spock frowned at her. “How so?”

 

“I go and have a baby, a half-human, half-Vulcan baby, when there are no others…and why? To prove some point? Be a lesson for the universe?”

 

“It is hardly unusual for a married couple to desire a child together,” Spock pointed out. “Even for Vulcan couples.”

 

“And never did I consider what that would mean for you! To be so different...”

 

Spock sighed.

 

“And you were so isolated…teased…and tortured. And what did I do about it? What did I say? Absolutely nothing!”

 

“There was nothing that could be done,” Spock insisted.

 

“I should have taken you away! We could have lived on Earth.”

 

Spock crossed his arms and raised a condescending eyebrow. “Indeed…because Human children are not cruel.”

 

She shook her head dismissively. “I left you alone… I left the planet to go traipsing around with your father, and you were just a kid.”

 

“You accompanied Father on some missions, and I was of an acceptable age and development for you to do so, by Vulcan standards.” She opened her mouth to interrupt, but he cut her off. “And I was not alone. There were neighbors and family close by who I could seek out if I needed and who checked up on me, despite it being an un-Vulcan thing to do, lest they be faced with the wrath of Amanda upon your return,” he said pointedly. “You were a very caring and devoted mother to me, even when I did not show any appreciation nor did I always deserve such treatment.”

 

She looked into his eyes, studying his features carefully. She placed her hand upon his cheek. “Tell me, truthfully, that you didn’t sometimes wish I wasn’t your mother.” 

 

“Never!” Spock insisted, reciprocating her gesture by placing his hand upon her face and allowing their minds to brush. “There may have been occasions growing up when I wished I were not half human,” he admitted, “but never did I ever question that I had the best mother on all of Vulcan.” She started to tear up again. “There was certainly a phase when my life was quite difficult, but you were never the cause. In fact, you were often the only thing that made life bearable.”

 

“I must have embarrassed you sometimes.”

 

Spock grunted thoughtfully. “A human mother’s prerogative, as I understand it.” He nodded, satisfied when she gave a small but genuine laugh. He gently pulled his hand away and removed hers from his face. “Now, open your gift, please.” He handed her the small package.

 

She wiped the remnants of her tears away. “What’s the occasion?”

 

“Gifts do not require an occasion. That is a Vulcan son’s prerogative.” 

 

She pulled the ribbon surrounding the box then lifted the cover off. “Chocolates!” She bent down to smell them. “Spock, these are real chocolates?”

 

“Real chocolates. Zero nutrition, abundance of calories, and enough sugar to put a full-grown Vulcan into a stupor.” He wiggled the box invitingly. “Just how you like them.”

 

She grinned and took a piece, her face displaying her pleasure in the experience. “These taste amazing.” She popped another one into her mouth. “Try one.”

 

Spock hesitated, then picked out a treat and tasted it. “Just one,” he promised. “I was not joking about the sugar content.”

 

She turned to lean her body against his, her back to his chest. “You’re a good son.”

 

“They are just chocolates, Mother.” Spock wrapped his arms around her in a loose hug, wondering if she realized this was a common position they would relax in when he was younger, usually to read together. 

 

“No, not just these. Everything you did before, when I thought you were Silek. You didn’t need to do all that.” She cleared her throat softly. “You are a very kind, considerate man, Spock. A mother would be proud to call you her son.”

 

Spock was glad she was not looking his way. “If I am, it is only because of how well I was raised,” he said demurely. After a moment he moved her away so he could stand. “I must return to the bridge,” he said apologetically. “I’d suggest if you want to continue reading your journal, you try to be less melancholy. Sarek does not tolerate that which upsets you,” he warned her. He stopped at the door and turned back toward her. “Now that I think about it,” he joked, “I’m not sure I was the reason I did not have many friends on Vulcan.”

 

~~***~~

 

Sarek glanced up from his place on the couch eyeing his wife as she curled up near him. They had returned from an impromptu concert in the rec room in which their son and the communications officer entertained the room with several songs, some known and some improvised. It was an interesting glimpse into Spock’s life. When they returned Amanda stated she was quite fatigued and intended to shower and change for bed. Now she was beside him, wearing Earth clothing consisting of only a pair of very short shorts and a baggy long-sleeved shirt. She was turned toward him, her legs upon the couch, knees bent to support her journal padd. 

 

Sarek abandoned his own reading to watch her. “Did you enjoy the concert?”

 

“Very much. I had no idea Spock played an instrument! He’s really good!”

 

Sarek nodded. “He plays the Vulcan ka’athyra, and you taught him the piano.” 

 

“He plays piano?” She grinned.

 

He noted her pleasure in finding similarities between her and their son. “He does, and he speaks several languages – not as many as you, of course.” He rose onto his knees and moved closer, then grabbed the ankle furthest from him to lift her foot. He began to massage it. “How far have you read into your journal?”

 

She had closed her eyes, enjoying his touch. She opened them and watched him. “I read up until our wedding on Earth, then I skipped ahead to read about Spock. I,” she moaned softly as he found a particularly pleasurable pressure point, “I wanted to learn more about him, get a feel for him.”

 

He put her foot down and reached for the next one. “What will you be reading about tonight?”

 

“I think it’s our trip to Vulcan, then I assume our Vulcan wedding and,” she gasped as his hands started kneading her calf, “I imagine…our honeymoon?”

 

“Is this pleasing?” he asked, resting her foot on his shoulder to free both his hands.

 

“Yes,” she squeaked as his hands slid even further up her leg. “You’re…getting a bit…p-personal.”

 

“Am I?” Sarek allowed her leg to slide down until it rested next to him, putting him between her legs. “An odd notion you Humans have,” he said conversationally as he pulled her journal from her hands and placed it on the table. “To be so casual about putting such…vast amounts of flesh on display, and yet to touch that which is so freely shown is somehow…too personal.” His voice had dropped to a murmur as he moved until he was directly over her. “Seems rather...” He dipped down as though to kiss her but pulled away at the last moment. Her eyes had closed, her head tilted back, lips slightly parted in anticipation of his touch. “Unfair,” he finished then settled upon her. He kissed her gently. Her arms slid around him, and he felt her pull her knees up, giving him more room. He pressed his pelvis against hers, letting her know she was affecting him, but refusing her attempts to deepen their kiss. He pressed soft kisses against her cheek and neck, then worked his way toward her ear. She was writhing beneath him, pushing herself against him and pressing her mouth against any part of him she could reach. Sarek placed his mouth beside her ear. “Good night, Amanda.” She stopped moving under him.

 

“What?” she whispered.

 

Sarek pulled back and kissed her lips again. “Good night.” He pushed himself back onto his knees and grabbed her journal, which he laid on her stomach. “Sleep well.” He got off the couch, reveling in her frustration. 

 

“You’re…leaving?” she asked, bewildered.

 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he promised her. He stopped in the doorway to his bedroom. “You may wish to look up in your journal what would equate to be Earth dates June 30, 2229 through July 8, 2229. You may find it…stimulating.”

 

“What happened then?” she asked, still frowning at him.

 

“We spent a week on Delta.”

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek emerged from his room the next morning still tired. As satisfying as it was to make his wife want him, the lack of follow through was equally disruptive to his equanimity. He stopped in his doorway, surprised to find his wife already awake and dressed for her day. 

 

“Amanda,” he greeted her.

 

Amanda walked toward him, smiling radiantly. “Good morning, Sarek!” She put her hands against his arms and shoved him back against the wall, surprising him before he could react to it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her as she pressed her lips hard against his, diving inside his mouth the moment his lips parted. 

 

Recovering quickly from his shock, Sarek wrapped his arms around her and met her kiss with enthusiasm. Her hand brushed against the front of his pajama pants, causing him to moan. He pulled her closer and stepped them toward his bedroom.

 

Amanda pushed against him, pulling away. “Have a nice day,” she said breathlessly, then turned to walk toward the suite’s main door. 

 

“What?” Sarek asked darkly.

 

“I’m having breakfast with Spock this morning before his shift,” she said innocently, grinning.

 

“Then…why…?”

 

“Why?” Her grin became smug and somewhat sinister. “You mean…that’s not how we say goodbye to each other? My mistake.” She turned and left their quarters.

 

Sarek sagged against the wall and closed his eyes. It appeared first meal would need to be skipped in favor of mediation today.

 

~~**~~

 

“So this is a star base?” Amanda glanced around at the bustling lobby as she and Sarek explored the station.

 

“This is a star base,” Sarek confirmed unenthusiastically. 

 

“Crowded,” she commented.

 

“Very much so. I don’t typically visit them, even when my ship must.” He pressed his lips together when a hurried humanoid accidentally bumped against him in his rush to press through the crowd. He gave her a “see there?” look. 

 

Amanda took his arm and pulled him closer to her. “Where are we going for dinner?”

 

Sarek pulled a personal padd from his pocket and consulted a map of the base. He led her through the crowd to an establishment and ushered her through the door, grateful when the sounds of the crowd diminished almost completely. He gave his name for the reservation, and they were ushered through a heavy dark curtain into the dining area. 

 

“Oh!” Amanda exclaimed softly. 

 

Sarek stopped. The room was dimly lit, small round tables lined the perimeter, all very low to the ground. Around them lay plush pillows. The room was draped in colorful fabrics giving a very hedonistic atmosphere. In the center of the room were several scantily-dressed females spinning and gyrating to some live music for the entertainment of the diners. “This is not correct,” he murmured, consulting his padd.

 

“This is like from one of those…pleasure planet places. Wrigley’s?” She watched the dancers excitedly. 

 

“This is not what was described in the brochure,” Sarek assured her. “I will find us another restaurant.”

 

“Can’t we stay?” she turned toward him, her eyes pleading. “I’ve never been to one of these places.”

 

Sarek sighed softly but acquiesced. They were led to a corner table and took their seats. Amanda looked around them, soaking everything in. Sarek studied his menu diligently.

 

“For once I feel overdressed,” she joked. Sarek nodded to acknowledge her comment, giving her halter-top and short skirt another once-over, but did not comment. “If you’re uncomfortable here we can leave.”

 

Sarek put his menu down. “This is fine.” He moved into a lotus position. “But for the record, you have been to a place like this before. We visited Wrigley’s, once.”

 

“We did?” She took a sip of the drink the waiter placed before her. “Did we like it?”

 

“Parts of it.” Sarek ordered food for both of them since his wife was too distracted to do so herself. 

 

The dance ended and Amanda began to clap. “No.” Sarek placed his hand over hers to stop them. “Use this.” He pressed a lever on the lantern sitting in the middle of their table, causing the flame to flicker. “This is how they show appreciation.”

 

Amanda pressed the lever several times. “You know so much about different people.”

 

“I have been an ambassador for sixty five point six eight years. One is introduced to many cultures in that time.”

 

A new dance began. One of the dancers twirled her way to their table, and after gyrating before them a moment, moved closer to Sarek bowing with her arm out in invitation to dance privately for him. He shook his head, refusing her, so she straightened and twirled around behind his back to make her way to his wife. She twisted and arched, wriggling her hips to make the bells around her waist jingle. 

 

She bowed before Amanda, then grabbed her arm and silently pulled the older woman to her feet and away from the table. Amanda looked at Sarek questioningly as another dancer came over and wrapped a bell-enhanced cloth around her waist. He merely flicked an eyebrow in a shrug, waiting to see how his wife would react. The dancers then began dancing for her, one in front of her, the other placing her hands on Amanda to encourage her to copy their movements. She looked toward him again, then shrugged lightly, and began dancing in earnest. 

 

Sarek watched his wife enjoy herself. She was smiling, at times laughing, as she picked up the dance moves and, at times, struggled to match their flexibility. The two dancers, apparently satisfied with her progress, took her by the arms and led her back to stand before him. They made her bow and one pulled her arm out until she was in the proper pose. Sarek gave a single nod and moved further away from the table to make more room. They continued to gently push at his wife, encouraging her to dance. Eventually they moved away, but his wife, caught up in the moment, twirled around him, gyrated her hips before him, enticing him with her movements and the sounds of tiny bells that he knew she would not recall the significance of for his people. When the music stopped, she dropped into a cross-legged position in front of him and bowed until her head nearly touched the floor with her arms held out at her sides, as the other dancers did. She straightened and looked at him, breathless. 

 

“How’d I do?”

 

Sarek leaned forward until his lips nearly touched her, then reached for the table and flickered his light many, many times.

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek exited the lavatory, tightening his bathrobe’s sash, and sat down at the desk to check his messages. 

 

Amanda came out of her bedroom, holding her own robe closed at the neck, humming softly to herself. “All done in there?” she asked pleasantly.

 

“I am. You could have gone first,” he reminded her. 

 

“I don’t mind waiting,” she beamed at him.

 

He sat back, watching her, bemused. 

 

“Tonight was really fun,” she danced around in a couple of loose circles, biting down on her bottom lip, smiling widely. “Really fun.”

 

Sarek nodded once. “I am pleased.”

 

Amanda walked backward from him, the grin never wavering until she was out of the room. 

 

With a shake of his head he went back to his messages. He was in the process of composing a response to T’Pau when she exited the bathroom. She moved to stand behind him, her hand resting gently upon his shoulder as she looked over him to read his work, just like she used to. Something in Sarek clenched at the familiar act. 

 

Suddenly her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pressed her face against him, kissing him soundly upon the cheek. “Do you have a lot of work to do?”

 

Sarek quickly tapped out the last of his message and hit send. “It is done.”

 

“What do you want to do tonight?” she asked, standing. “Your choice this time.”

 

“First, I wished to show you something.” He tapped into the computer and brought up an itinerary for the star base. “There is a concert playing tomorrow night.” He made a selection and a file began to open.

 

“An orchestra?”

 

“No, your type of music. Singing music.” The file opened and he looked up to catch her reaction. She didn’t even look at the computer. “You like this performer,” he told her. “You own some of her discs at home.”

 

“Do you like this type of music?” she asked quietly.

 

Sarek tipped his head in a shrug. “I prefer instrumentals,” he admitted. “And I find concerts like this to be loud, the audience equally so.” He gazed at her a moment, trying to read her. “I thought it would please you.”

 

“You do a lot of things to please me, don’t you?”

 

Sarek turned his chair to face her directly and reached for her hand, holding it in both of his to get some insight into mind. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

 

She moved to sit on his lap and framed his face between her hands. She pressed her lips to his, tentatively at first, then with more confidence. Sarek rested his hands on her hip and lap, responding but not pushing. Her lips trailed to his cheek, then his neck. She gently pried the top of his robe apart and began a slow burning trail down his chest. “Amanda?” he spoke uncertainly as she moved to kneel before him, between his legs. 

 

“I want to please you, too,” she murmured, pulling his sash apart and exposing him. She pressed her lips to his navel. 

 

Sarek took her chin in his hand, making her look up at him. “I do not expect repayment… and certainly not in this way.”

 

She took his hand in hers, freeing her chin. “I know you don’t.” She mouthed his fingers, not missing his sharp intake of breath, “which makes me want to do it more.”

 

“Computer,” Sarek called out loudly, never taking his eyes from hers. “Engage locks.” She lowered her head, and he closed his eyes.

 

“Do you like this?” she whispered moments later.

 

Sarek opened his eyes and looked down at her. “Very much,” he murmured intensely. 

 

“I can’t tell,” she frowned. 

 

Sarek reached for her and assisted her onto his lap again. “You will learn to. My reactions are subtle, but you will learn to see them. And then…there’s this.” He reached for her face, touched her PSI points, and allowed her to feel a small part of what lay beneath his mask. 

 

She gasped, then smiled and leaned against him, kissing him passionately. 

 

He pulled her sash and slid the robe off her shoulders. “I want you.” 

 

She rose up and straddled him, lowering herself over him. He wrapped an arm around her, pinning her against him, and stood. He pushed the desk’s contents aside and laid her on it. He shrugged off his robe then gripped her hips, using them to pull her against him while he thrust, fully enveloping himself in her softness. 

 

She gasped each time he filled her, her moan a deep, guttural sound. 

 

He gripped her tightly and increased his tempo, taking her harder, knowing his gentle, delicate human had a much darker and wanton side to her. A side he knew was matched within himself, in that part he kept controlled and hidden to all others. She tightened around him, her thighs quivering, her toes curling. He slammed into her once again and stayed buried within her, knowing she came much harder when she did so around him. He watched her through hooded eyes, watched her body arch, her eyes cloud over with passion, and enjoyed the involuntary movements of her inner flesh. When her pulsations stopped he withdrew. She whimpered and tightened her legs around him, trying to keep him. He wondered if she had any idea how these actions tore at him, these actions he could completely predict but were completely new to her. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bed.

 

“You definitely have me at a disadvantage,” she complained, her smile softening her words. He shook his head to indicate his confusion. “I was supposed to be pleasing you,” she reminded him.

 

“You please me.” He laid her upon the bed and covered her, pressing his lips against hers and probing her depths with his tongue. He cupped her breast, giving the nipple a quick sharp pinch then rubbing her with the palm of his hand. She gasped and arched against him, as he knew she would. “Do not forget I have been studying this body for forty years.”

 

“Forty years is a long time to devote to one subject.”

 

“Yes,” he agreed, “but it is my most favored subject.” He entered her again, then began a gentle, lazy rhythm. He sighed happily against her neck, loving her in his way. “I need to touch your mind,” he whispered against her ear. He raised himself so he could look down at her. 

 

“Will it be like last time?” Her brow creased with worry.

 

“No,” he promised. “I will restrain myself this time.” He reached for her face, paused to allow her to protest, and then pressed against her. First he just brushed her mind, like before, and allowed her to feel him, his arousal for her, his elation that she came to him. Then he moved deeper, entwining his mind with her. He moaned as slipped deeper into her thoughts, his hips pushing him deeper into her body. The orgasm starts in the brain, even for humans, and he felt hers building, cascading over him, bringing him to his brink before her body ever began the physical manifestations. He shuddered as he climaxed, but hadn’t the time to completely come down when she tightened around him, her nails digging into his back, and he was rocketed over the precipice again. He had heard human males, for all their eagerness and boasting for the act, did not get to experience multiple orgasms. When he was with his wife, like this, he pitied them.

 

He came down from his climax and became aware she was still breathing quite hard, so he rolled off her but entwined his hand with hers, needing to maintain contact. “Thank you,” he said softly. He felt her turn her head to look at him.

 

“Do you always thank me after sex?” 

 

He could hear the amusement in her tone. “No, but… While I do not completely understand your motivation tonight, I know it was not true desire.”

 

There was a slight hesitation. “I think you’re selling yourself short, Ambassador.”

 

“No.” He turned on his side and leaned over to kiss her tenderly upon the lips. “You will stay the night?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He adjusted their pillows and curled himself against her. 

 

“I can still feel you in my head.” She leaned into him more. 

 

“I made a link between us. A temporary one. It will dissipate in time.” He nuzzled her neck. “Do you like it?”

 

She thought a moment. “It’s not unpleasant. Just…different.” She felt him nod. “Does that disappoint you?”

 

“No, you have always felt thusly. You are not telepathic and I suspect…you are simply not designed to feel pleasure there as I am.”

 

“How much pleasure?” She moved so she could look at him. “Can you like…orgasm, just from mental touch?”

 

“Definitely.” He met her gaze. “In fact, for Vulcans, that sort of intimacy is much more common than physical intimacy.”

 

She moved up on the bed and rested herself on one elbow. “So…is that, for you, how sex is? Pleasant, but…meh?”

 

“No,” he said resolutely. “I am also quite partial to the physical act as well.” He leaned forward to kiss the breast her position so conveniently placed in front of him. “Especially with you.” He took her nipple in his mouth and suckled her, following her down when she rolled onto her back, letting him play with her.

 

She arched against his mouth. “You…uh…make out like a bandit with this marriage then, don’t you?”

 

He glanced up at her, his lips ticked briefly. “I do indeed.” He switched to the other breast.

 

She tapped him on the shoulder, her mean becoming serious. “Explain this mind thing more to me. Sometimes you call it a link, sometimes you say bond. What is it, exactly?”

 

Sarek reluctantly moved to lie beside her again. “For Vulcans the bond, technically speaking, is a mental link that permits the pair to be aware of each other and, when needed, will draw them together. For a closely bonded pair, the bond is a means of sharing emotion. Mental touch is the only acceptable means of sharing our emotions with another; as such, it is vital to us. When separated, the bond allows us to have a sense of each other’s wellbeing.”

 

“What do you mean draw them together? For what?”

 

Sarek grunted thoughtfully, reluctant to risk frightening her with something she might not understand when she was only beginning to trust him again. “To mate,” he said simply.

 

She turned on her side toward him, propping her head up with her hand. “So…when one is horny the other will know?”

 

“That…will suffice.”

 

She giggled. “Convenient.”

 

“You have a rather juvenile sense of humor, Amanda.” That only made her giggle more. 

 

“What else does it do? Can you talk through it? Like…pick up some bread on your way home from work?”

 

“No. Well, certainly it depends on the abilities of the Vulcans involved, but I don’t believe anyone could have such detailed communication without touching.” He reached for her hand. “However, once established, a bond permits a couple to communicate with a simple touch…psi points need not be involved.” He posed her hand, her index and middle fingers paired and extended, then remembered her injuries and held her hand against his chest instead. 

 

“You said we have a bond, right? Can we do that too? Even though I’m not Vulcan?”

 

“We could. Simple messages, at any rate, but it took years to develop and for you to learn.”

 

“Show me?”

 

He pressed her hand against his lips. “I wish I could, t’hy’la. When you were injured, our bond was damaged, greatly.”

 

“So we don’t have…you mean we’re not married?”

 

“We are married,” he quickly corrected her. “By Earth and Vulcan law, bond or not.” She leaned over and pressed her lips against his cheek. He realized he had tensed up, enough he was likely causing her hand some discomfort, and forced himself to relax. “Our bond exists, I can feel it, but it no longer…works. It is very weak.”

 

“Will it get stronger?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Will it come back if my memories return?”

 

“I do not know, Amanda.” 

 

She turned to half lay upon him. He slid his arm out to hold her close, enjoying the feel of her breast against his chest, their wetness against his thigh. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant,” she suggested.

 

“Such as?”

 

“Let me think…” She rubbed her lips against his chest. “Okay. If you had to choose one way to have sex, mentally or physically, and you could never do it any other way again – the rest of your life…which would you choose?”

 

“Why should I have to choose such a thing?” he asked indignantly.

 

She lifted her head to look at him, grinning when his expression seemed as affronted as his tone. “You just do.”

 

“Who is imposing this edict?”

 

She frowned at him. “You’re not very good with hypotheticals, are you?”

 

“I prefer reality.”

 

“Forget it then,” she muttered, lying back down. “All right, this one is firmly planted in reality.” 

 

He sighed deeply.

 

She propped up on one elbow to look down at him. “What’s your favorite sexual position?”

 

His eyes snapped to her. “I am not answering that,” he snipped. 

 

“You have to.”

 

“I invoke Vulcan privacy law.”

 

“There’s no such thing,” she exclaimed.

 

“There most certainly is. Established in--“

 

“Well I don’t care, you still have to answer.” He stared at her, his lips pressed tightly together. “I’m your wife,” she reminded him. “I assume I’m involved…”

 

“An essential component,” he joked. She didn’t smile. “I do not wish to say, Amanda.”

 

“Why not? Do I hate it?”

 

“I should think it wouldn’t be my preference if you did,” he said impatiently. He sighed resolutely. “I am…concerned that should I speak of it, at this point, you may…misunderstand.”

 

“I’ll keep an open mind,” she promised. She sighed in frustration. “You did promise to answer whatever questions that came up honestly.”

 

He nodded. “So I did.” He pulled her back down to lie upon his chest, which also had the advantage of preventing eye contact. “Keep in mind that this is a…caring thing that we do. A trusting thing.”

 

“That’s…some build up, Ambassador. Do tell,” she murmured.

 

“I…find…intense pleasure…in positions in which you…cannot participate.”

 

The room fell silent for some time. “I’m confused,” she confessed. “I thought you said I was involved.”

 

“You’re involved,” he assured her, “but you…cannot act.” He could feel her shake her head. “Because you are…restrained,” he whispered. He heard her gasp.

 

“Are you into bondism? Do you tie me up?”

 

“Not always,” he quickly denied. “I’m much larger and stronger than you so I can easily…” She started laughing. “Restrain you.”

 

“The Vulcan ambassador is kinky!” she exclaimed playfully. She felt him tense up.

 

“You enjoy it as well.”

 

“I’m sure I do.” She laughed, snuggling against him to try to take any sting out of her words. “Why do you like it? Do you like to dominate me?”

 

He shook his head. 

 

“Humiliate me?”

 

“Never,” he said emphatically.

 

“Then what?” He shook his head again. She pressed her lips against his chest, lingering. 

 

“Dominate is the wrong word,” he relented. “I…It pleases me to know that I, alone, am responsible for your…pleasure.” His voice became low and sultry. “I can bring you to orgasm quickly, or I can draw it out, make you plead for release.” He shifted, holding her tighter. “I will bring you release,” he promised, “but I do not stop, and you will have another and perhaps another. Then you will claim you can do no more, but still I will not stop because…I know you too well. I will take you until your body is slick with sweat, your limbs too weak to support you, and you nearly succumb to exhaustion. Then, and only then, do I permit myself to feel pleasure…to touch your mind through our bond…to spill myself within you.” He fell into a contemplative silence. 

 

“Oh,” she whimpered.

 

“Control, perhaps, would be a more apt term.”

 

She snuggled against him some more. “Control of whom? Sounds like you control yourself most of all.” His hand had found hers, and he started doing the ritualistic rubbing he had done to her before. She watched his movements. “Seems like an awful lot of work for a small amount of pleasure for you.”

 

“Does it? Control, especially during those sorts of activities, is very difficult to achieve; but the release of such control… I think, perhaps, you would say…quality over quantity, my wife.” He sighed fretfully. “Forgive me, you said not to call you--“

 

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “Maybe…maybe it’s not sounding so bad, anymore.”

 

He grunted. “As nice as that sounds, I suspect it is simply the oxytocin making you say so.”

 

“The what?”

 

“Oxytocin,” he repeated. “The human ‘love hormone’. Production is triggered by your orgasms; it causes the feelings of attachment and bliss your people term love. That, and other hormones such as dopamine and serotonin.”

 

“Are you saying I don’t really love you?” she asked, bemused.

 

“Not at all, Amanda. I am saying the emotion your people call love is really a chemical reaction, but I do cause that chemical reaction within you by…touching you, mating with you, protecting and providing for you, hence, you love me.”

 

“Way to suck the romance out of the evening, Sarek,” she grumbled and moved away from him.

 

Sarek turned toward her and pulled her back against him. “Ah, but you see, my wife, this I cannot allow.” He pressed his lips against her neck. “You see, if I were to stop touching you, stop mating with you, and if we were to have more negative experiences together than positive ones you would stop producing these hormones, and then you would no longer love me.” He looked down at her profile to gauge her reaction. She tilted her head to bare her neck to him further. He took the hint.

 

“Do Vulcans have oxytocin?”

 

“No.” Sarek murmured distractedly.

 

“Then you don’t love me.” 

 

He could hear the disappointment in her tone. “Vulcans do not use that term, Amanda, but we do have hormones that also produce a sense of attachment in us, just not oxytocin per se. In our case, the bond helps to induce the reactions, as well as mating, but we do not engage in such activities except with our arranged mate. So, Vulcans, the majority of the time, choose or are chosen a mate based on logical reasons, then engage in expected activities to induce the appropriate attachment. Humans tend to engage in activities to induce these reactions, then when they do so successfully, they choose that person as a mate.” She squirmed a little further from him. “I assure you I am as attached to you as you are to me.” He moved closer to her, ensuring they were skin to skin as much as possible. He stroked her arm. “We complement each other quite well, differences aside.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

He kissed her shoulder. “Do not be cross with me.”

 

“I’m not,” she sighed. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Certainly.”

 

“Why does it embarrass you to talk about sex with me?”

 

“It’s not a topic Vulcans generally discuss, and I…”

 

“You what?” She turned to glance at him when he did not answer. “You what?”

 

“Did you know Vulcan still has laws against sexual deviance? Rarely enforced anymore, of course.”

 

She turned onto her back, taking his hand in hers and holding it against her chest. “Is that what you think? That what we do is wrong, somehow?”

 

“I’m not certain it’s…normal, for a Vulcan.”

 

“Who cares? You’re not with a Vulcan, you’re with me. As long as you and I both enjoy it, I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks.”

 

He looked down at her, his lips curling in the slight smile he reserves just for her. “Do not be concerned, Amanda. It certainly is not a matter I consider significant enough to alter my behaviors. I just, sometimes, wonder…”

 

“Wonder…what they’d think of you, if they knew you liked to,” she grinned widely, “subject your wife to forced orgasm?”

 

“Indeed,” he murmured, sharing her mirth. “Or looked in the trunk we keep in the closet.”

 

Her grinned disappeared and her eyes grew wider. “What’s in the trunk?”

 

~~**~~

 

Amanda became aware of a pressure against her neck, then her breast, then lower. She stirred, stretching sensuously against Sarek. His mouth found hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck as she responded to him. His mouth wandered lower. “You do have an appetite, Ambassador,” she purred. 

 

“For you, my wife, insatiable.” He moved over her, allowing her to feel the effect she has on him. Suddenly he paused, his head cocking to the side.

 

“What is it?” she asked, trying to pull him back down to her.

 

“Stay right here,” he commanded, moving off her to pull on his pajama pants. 

 

“Where are you going?” She sat up, holding the sheet over her breasts protectively. 

 

“I need to address a…minor matter.” He stood and looked down at her affectionately. “I will return momentarily.” He leaned down and kiss her briefly upon the lips. “Do not move.”

 

He stepped out of the bedroom just enough to allow his door to close behind him. “Spock.” He greeted his son as he moved toward Amanda’s bedroom. 

 

Spock glanced back at him. “Did you know your door was locked?” Spock rang the chime for Amanda’s room and waited. 

 

“How did you get in?”

 

“I overrode it. No one answered the chimes.” Receiving no answer, Spock pressed the switch to enter his mother’s room. It was unlocked. A moment later his son emerged from his wife’s bedroom, his pace quick and jerky. “She is gone,” he said worriedly. 

 

“There is no cause for concern,” he gently censored him. 

 

Spock shook his head. “We are docked at a star base. If she went down alone…” He moved toward the desk to contact the transporter room. He noticed a garment on the floor. “Her robe…” He bent to pick it up, staring at it with trepidation. He noted something else on the floor and picked that up to. “Oh,” he exclaimed softly, recognizing his father’s robe. He looked up, finally noticing his father’s half-dressed state. “She’s…” he gestured toward the bedroom. 

 

“She is safe,” he assured his son.

 

The bedroom door opened. “Sarek?” His mother peeked out around his father, dressed in Sarek’s pajama top. She pressed up against him upon seeing they were not alone. “Hi, Spock.”

 

“Good morning,” Spock greeted her politely. “I did not mean to intrude,” he apologized. “I wanted to ask if you would like to have first meal with me on the base?”

 

Sarek hesitated. “Perhaps later would be more…”

 

Amanda nudged her husband, getting his attention. “I’m pretty hungry,” she admitted regretfully. 

 

He sighed softly. “Of course.” He turned back toward their son. “First meal would be…most welcomed.” He glanced down at his wife. “Go ahead and use the facilities, Amanda. I would speak with our son a moment.” She nodded, but seemed reluctant to move from her hiding spot. “Amanda,” he chided. “He is our son. It should hardly embarrass him to know we…were together.”

 

“Embarrass? No.” Spock held out her robe, which she gratefully took and scampered toward the bathroom. “Uncomfortable? Slightly,” he admitted, handing Sarek his robe when he held out his hand for it. 

 

Somewhat chilled without a top, Sarek slid his robe on and tied the sash. “Why did you override our lock, Spock’am?” he asked, curious.

 

“I assumed it was locked in error. Why did you see a need to lock your main door, Father?”

 

Sarek hesitated. “It…would not ease your discomfort for me to answer.”

 

Spock frowned at his ambiguity, following his father’s gaze to where Spock now stood. He looked around him, recalling the discarded robes and noticed the hazardous organization of the desk’s contents. “Indeed,” he muttered distastefully. “I will not override your lock again,” he promised, moving toward the door. “I think I will await you and mother in the transporter room.”

 

Sarek said nothing, his lip ticking up briefly as his son quickly made his exit.

 

~~**~~

 

Kirk and McCoy were conversing quietly at the captain’s chair when Spock stepped down from his station to join them. 

 

“Shift’s almost over. Not joining your parents on the base, Spock?” McCoy asked amicably.

 

“I was not invited,” Spock pointed out, raising an eyebrow when his friends each smirked. 

 

“Yup…I saw them headed to the transporter room on my way here. I don’t think they saw me though,” McCoy said smugly. “In fact, I don’t think they can see anyone but each other tonight.”

 

Spock pressed his lips together and nodded, accepting the teasing. “Indeed, there does seem to have been some sort of…understanding, between them.”

 

“I don’t know,” Kirk accepted a cup of coffee from his yeomen and sipped it gingerly. “Kinda gives me hope.”

 

“Yes, indeed, Jim,” McCoy agreed. 

 

“Hope, sir?”

 

“Hope, Spock. If two people, of two different species, from two different planets, can find each other not once but twice… Gives me hope that maybe, someday, pigheaded bachelors like us might find someone.”

 

Spock afforded them a withering look. “I think you are both indulging in romantic fantasy.”

 

“Now, Spock, don’t you give me that Vulcans don’t feel nonsense,” McCoy scolded him. “Any idget can see your parents are in love, both of them.”

 

“Perhaps if you knew my father’s theory regarding human love you’d think differently, Doctor.”

 

The yellow alert klaxon activated, and Spock ran back to his station. 

 

“What’s happening?” Kirk demanded.

 

“Deflector shields automatically activated,” the helmsman reported.

 

“Sensors are picking up an object approaching at great speed, Captain,” Spock supplied. “Appears to be traveling at warp eight!”

 

“Toward the base?” Kirk sat up straighter. 

 

“The base has activated their shields and is sending out a warning call to all docked ships, sir.” Uhura’s fingers flew across her board as she monitored all the incoming space chatter.

 

“It’s definitely a ship!” Spock exclaimed, watching the blip on his radar jump from location to location. 

 

“Ready phasers!” Kirk ordered, coming to stand behind the navigator and helmsman. “If it doesn’t veer off or slow down, we’ll have to blast it to save the station,” he warned his crew. “Warn that ship off, Uhura!”

 

“Hold your fire!” Spock commanded. “It’s a Vulcan fighter ship.”

 

“Sir, Vulcan ship acknowledges our hail and requests we take no aggressive action against them.”

 

“They are on our screen now, Captain.” Spock flipped a switch and turned his chair to watch. 

 

“Tell them to slow down!” Kirk yelled.

 

“They are now at warp four…” Spock said. “Warp two…”

 

“They’re gonna hit!” McCoy exclaimed as the ship drew close enough for both it and the star base to be on screen. 

 

“Maximum sublight,” Spock monitored both the view screen and his sensors, his voice terse as he waited for the inevitable.

 

There was a collective gasp as all the humans on the bridge cringed defensively as the Vulcan ship torpedoed toward an empty docking station.

 

Jim cracked an eye open, then straightened for a better look. The Vulcan ship had stopped and was perfectly aligned for docking.

 

“Vulcan ship apologizes for the unorthodox approach and is requesting Star Base twelve permission to dock,” Uhura reported breathlessly. 

 

“Are they crazy!” McCoy exclaimed, pacing to burn off adrenaline. “Outta their Vulcan minds!”

 

“Vulcan ship is hailing us, sir.”

 

“Put them on, Lieutenant.” 

 

The screen dissolved to show the small fighter crew calmly seated at their stations. In the background a few men were moving about. One looked up, then stepped forward to stand beside their captain. 

 

“Soran,” Spock said quietly, moving down to stand beside Kirk.

 

“Spock’am, where are they?”

 

Kirk observed the male. He appeared to be Sarek’s age, but then age could be difficult to guess on Vulcans. He was muscular, and currently clothed in only a pair of black pants and a silver vest, his chest underneath bare. He had a red belt tied around his waist, hanging from it a phaser and some sort of small sword-like weapon. The men moving around behind him were similarly outfitted while the crew wore clothing more typically seen of Vulcans.

 

“They beamed down to the station some time ago.”

 

Kirk glanced at McCoy, the man seemed so familiar but he couldn’t quite place him.

 

“Unfortunate,” Soran uttered, then turned toward his companions. “Prepare to beam down!” He glanced back at the Enterprise. “There is a crew of Orion smugglers at this base. They arrived in a stolen Ferengi vessel.” He slipped a garment over his head and adjusted it. Kirk gasped as he recognized the diamond-shaped facemask from Spock’s failed wedding ceremony. “It does not leave this base!” he ordered and strode away. The Vulcan captain watched them impassively a moment, then flipped a switch on his armchair, ending the connection.

 

There was a prolonged pause as the Enterprise crew absorbed the events of the past few minutes. 

 

“Mr. Chekov, how many Ferengi vessels are currently docked at this base?” Spock asked quietly.

 

The Russian stirred and adjusted his controls. “Just one, sir.”

 

Kirk took a deep breath. “Watch that ship, gentlemen. If they so much as turn on a cook stove I want to know about it.” He turned toward Spock, assessing him. “I think we need to crash your parents’ evening. Let’s send down some security to watch the base, and see if we can’t get them back up here.”

 

“I think that would be wise,” Spock agreed.

 

~~**~~

 

Amanda bounced eagerly in line beside Sarek. “This is taking forever,” she complained good-naturedly as she stepped out of line enough to see how much progress the line had made.

 

“These venues do not seem to run very efficiently,” he agreed. He allowed his eyes to roam her figure. “Are you cold?” She was dressed in a very brief skirt and vest-like top that showed far more skin than he preferred, but she had, at least, compromised with him and agreed to wear a very sheer but full length covering over it. 

 

“A little,” she conceded. “But once we’re inside it’ll be plenty warm.” She looked at him askew. “If I was, would you offer me your shirt to warm me?”

 

“No,” he said firmly. “If you choose to wear illogical garments you will suffer the logical consequences.”

 

“That’s not very chivalrous,” she said, pouting. 

 

He looked her over again, then stepped closer. “I would not give you my shirt,” he insisted softly so they would not be overheard. “However, I…might suggest we adjourn to another location where I could assist you in warming up.” He stepped away, her blush telling him his meaning was quite clear.

 

“How gallant,” she laughed, shaking her head. She glanced around the lobby area, again mesmerized by the multitude of alien races present in one setting. She glanced toward Sarek, but he seemed to ignore the scene as nothing unusual. The line moved ahead slightly, and she kept up with him as she people watched.

 

There was a slight commotion across the way. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to see what the fuss was, but her diminutive statue kept her in the dark. The line moved forward, earning her attention. 

 

“Watch where you step, Hu-Man!” a disembodied voice floated across the lobby to her.

 

Amanda gasped as the air left her lungs. She looked toward her right, past her husband as he and everything else in her sight appeared to move in slow motion. She squinted, her eyes focusing on a blur of movement across the way. The crowd parted to avoid the wrath of an unpleasant being, one covered head to toe in some unfamiliar uniform. Her gut clenched, nausea threatened to overtake her. Suddenly her lungs filled in a strangled breath, and time resumed its normal pace.

 

Sarek glanced at her peculiarly.

 

She grabbed his arm. “Let’s go!” she hissed.

 

He blinked, surprised. “Go?”

 

“Yes. Let’s go. I want to go. Now.”

 

“We have been in line over an hour, Amanda. At the current admission rate I predict only another few minutes and we should be seat--“

 

“I don’t care. I want to leave!” She tugged on his arm, trying to drag him with her. He easily yanked his arm out of her grasp.

 

“Desist!” he commanded her quietly. He glanced around to see if they were drawing attention. “Where is it you wish to go so suddenly?”

 

“To the ship. We have to go back!”

 

“For what reason?”

 

“Sarek, please!” she shrieked, this time drawing the attention of everyone around them. She didn’t notice how his face stiffened, any trace of softness, any hint of emotion, whisked away. Her attention was focused behind him where she saw the oddly uniformed man staring at them, him and his identically-dressed companion. She backed away from her husband, shaking her head. “I’m sorry…I can’t-“ She turned and fled the lobby. 

 

She ran blindly through the curved corridors, oblivious to looks she gained from those she passed. She was passing through an intersection when arms gripped her around the waist and lifted her off her feet. She was being pulled out of the main corridor and down a smaller, more deserted one. She kicked and threw herself ineffectually against her captor.

 

Sarek set her down but pressed her against the corridor wall, using his body to contain her. He tried to comfort her, to calm her, but she was oblivious to him. Desperate, he grabbed her face between his hands and mentally thrust himself toward her, giving the equivalent of a mental shout. She stopped struggling. 

 

“Sarek?” 

 

“It is I,” he reassured her, using both his mental and physical voice. 

 

“Oh thank god!” She clenched at his tunic desperately. “We have to go! Please! Come with me!”

 

He gently pried her hands from him. “Yes, Amanda. We will return to the ship now,” he told her gently. “Do not be afraid.” She relaxed slightly, nodding her head. She tried to lead him back the way she’d come. He stopped her. “The transporter room was this way, my wife. You would have circled the entire base before finding it.” He led her down the small corridor, relieved to find themselves alone in it.

 

Having transected the base, they were approaching another intersection of corridors, which would lead them to the main curved one but on the opposite side of the base. A lone figure stepped into their corridor, covered head to toe in fabric, blocking their path. Sarek stopped. He heard his wife whimper softly, but her terror flowed to him even without touch. Sarek vaguely recalled seeing such a being in his meld with Amanda. He reached out and pushed his wife behind him, felt her fists clench his tunic at his back. He began to slowly walk backward, keeping the being in his sight. When they had put some distance between them, Sarek turned and grabbed Amanda’s arm to guide her while he listened intently for evidence of them being followed. They had only gone a short distance, however, when he saw another being blocking their path again. Sarek stopped, turning so he could look both ways, and kept Amanda between him and the corridor wall.

 

The two beings approached them with seeming casualness. “Ambassador Sarek,” one of them sneered. “Small universe. One never knows who they’ll find when stopping for supplies. We’ve been…eager to find you.”

 

Sarek’s jaw clenched as he thought of his aides and wife at the hands of these creatures. “I have noticed,” he said darkly.

 

“J’oh’ar,” one of the beings called to the other. “Look who it is.”

 

The second being moved toward Amanda, causing Sarek to turn his way, but which allowed the first being to grab his wife and pull her from him. Sarek quickly turned back but the being had released her once she was in the open. 

 

“Hu-Man!” the one called J’oh’ar called to her jovially. “You live!” He allowed his eyes to roam over her in a way that set Sarek on edge. “You look different.”

 

“I told you we should have looked closer under those robes,” the second one complained. “She would have fetched a fair price.”

 

J’oh’ar shrugged. “She still will.”

 

Sarek glanced at his wife, his concern not only on their physical well-being, but the vacant look in her eyes worried him. “What do you want of me?”

 

“Our Supreme Leader wants you,” J’oh’ar said. “His reasons are his own, but we will take the Hu-Man as compensation for our troubles.”

 

Sarek reached for Amanda and pulled her back behind him. “Unacceptable,” he said authoritatively. 

 

The two beings laughed. “It is not your choice, Vulcan.”

 

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Sarek acknowledged. “There is a choice, however. You have failed once to procure me to your leader’s satisfaction. This I know. So I propose a compromise.”

 

“Compromise,” J’oh’ar repeated, amused. 

 

Sarek swallowed hard. “I am a Vulcan male, this is my mate.”

 

“Your mate!” the second one exclaimed. “How did we not realize she was your mate?”

 

“We thought she was just an aide,” J’oh’ar explained, shrugged in an almost playfully abashed manner. 

 

“This will increase her price,” the second one said. “Everyone knows of the…rigors Vulcan males put their mates through.”

 

Sarek did not react to the taunt. “If you know that, then you know I will fight to protect my mate, to the death. I estimate a fifty-four point eight percent chance that I will successfully disable you both, and we will escape. If I fail, in all likelihood I will be damaged beyond repair in the process. Either way, you will fail to produce me for your leader.” He saw the two beings glance at each other worriedly. “However, if you agree to leave my wife on this base, untouched, I will go with you willingly. You can then save face with your leader.”

 

J’oh’ar nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting proposition, Vulcan.”

 

“J’oh’ar, no! A Vulcan wife is so rare.”

 

“But she is Hu-Man,” J’oh’ar pointed out. “We could not prove she was really married to a Vulcan.”

 

“But I want her,” the other one whined. 

 

J’oh’ar glared at his companion. “Do you want to risk the Supreme Leader’s wrath as well?” The other one looked away. “We accept your offer, Sarek. 

 

“Sarek?” Amanda’s voice was small and childlike. 

 

Sarek turned to her and raised his hand to caress her cheek despite not being alone. He suspected this would be his last chance to do so. “You will stay here,” he told her. Her eyes widened and focused. “I will go with them.”

 

“No, Sarek!” She grabbed at him, twisting his tunic in her fists. Her eyes filled with tears.

 

“Cast out your fears, Amanda,” he murmured to her tenderly. “All will be as it should be.”

 

“No! You can’t! Sarek, you don’t know,” she started crying in earnest, “the things they do…”

 

He pulled her against him, hugging her tightly, holding her while she cried against his chest. He nuzzled her hair, brushing his lips against her ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, then reached up to pinch the juncture between her neck and shoulder. He felt her stiffen then go limp. Sarek cradled her against him, then slowly, gently, lowered her onto the floor and arranged her in the most comfortable position possible. Leaning over her, he closed his eyes to perfect his control. 

 

Sarek stood and turned to his captors. “Gentlemen,” he bowed his head slightly, indicating they should go.

 

~~**~~

 

Soran strode through the corridors of the star base, his mind reaching for his friend, but receiving very little in response. He saw a prone figure on the floor and ran toward it, bending down to check its status. He pressed his hand against his sister-by-choice’s pulse, then her forehead. She was merely unconscious. He stood, hearing footsteps racing up behind them. The Starfleet security team slowed as they came near. 

 

“Take her to your ship,” Soran commanded, then he and his crew continued their pursuit. 

 

~~**~~

 

Spock held his mother, trying to calm her as she sobbed uncontrollably against his shoulder. “Mother, please…”

 

“It’s all my fault,” she wailed against him. “I did nothing to stop them. I was useless!”

 

“Listen to me.” He pulled her away to look her in the eyes. “He is either on that base or on that ship. We will find him.”

 

She shook her head. “They could kill him.” Her eyes held a wild glaze to them. “They could do so much worse.”

 

Spock pulled her back against him, holding her tighter. “Sarek is strong,” he assured her. “Physically and mentally.”

 

“Mentally,” she whispered ponderously. She pulled back, wiping at her tears hastily. “Mentally… We have a bond. He said so. He said… He said we could sense each other’s well-being.”

 

“Normally, yes.”

 

“How? How do I use it?” she beseeched him.

 

“My understanding is, currently, you can’t.”

 

“Help me try. You know how, don’t you?” She looked away, thoughtful. “Yes, you did it…at dinner that time. You can help me?”

 

Spock looked into her eyes, full of desperation. “I can try,” he relented. “But even if it works, it will do be of little help but to assure you he is alive.”

 

“That certainly would seem helpful to me,” she stressed.

 

Spock took her hands and sat upon the couch, pulling her down with him. “There’s no guarantee this will work,” he warned her. She nodded impatiently. Spock lifted his hand to her face, finding her psi points. “Relax,” he murmured. “Think of Sarek, think about your bond to him.”

 

She frowned. “How do I think about something I don’t understand?”

 

He shushed her. “Relax your mind,” he instructed her again. “Imagine it…as…a string connecting him to you.” He searched through her mind, lightly, backing away from avenues that were irrelevant or too personal. Her mind was unfocused, and giving him little guidance to his destination. “Sarek…” he kept reminding her mentally.

 

Spock paused in his search. There was…something. He tilted his head, physically displaying his mental confusion. He zoomed in on the thing, the tiny…flicker of something. He drew her attention to it, could sense she was as unaware as he. Spock mentally probed it, and the flicker flared. There was a resonance within her, a presence that Spock knew was his father. He heard his mother moan painfully. He backed away quickly but she cried out to him, begging him to continue. “Your bond,” he telepathically informed her. “You see it? Don’t let it go…draw it to you.” He sensed her trying, could feel her frustration as she failed. Spock poked the bond again, causing another flare, hoping his father might, perhaps, be alerted to them. She whimpered and Spock became aware of her body leaning heavily against his. He conveyed his concern for her, but she brushed that aside and he felt her push herself toward the bond, throwing herself at it. He heard her cry out, was unsure if it was mental or physical. Spock quickly pulled out of the meld. 

 

She was laying against him, her forehead pressed against his chest, her hands clutching her head tightly. Her pain was palpable. 

 

“Mother,” he called to her, pushing her back into a seated position. “Mother!” he cried out. His shirt was stained with blood, as was her gown. Blood was oozing from her nose. Her eyes were still closed in concentration, and she continued to whimper as she tried to reach her husband. Spock shook her gently. “Stop! You must stop this at once!”

 

She opened her eyes, dazed. He quickly removed his blue tunic, leaving him in the black undershirt, and used the ruined fabric to stanch her nosebleed. Her eyes cleared, and she pulled away, taking his shirt to look at it, apparently unaware she’d been bleeding. She focused on him. “Do it again,” she murmured. “I think I was starting to get it.” She tried lifting his hand to her face, but he pulled away.

 

“We cannot. You mustn’t try anymore.”

 

“I didn’t… I couldn’t feel him. Could you?”

 

“The bond is there,” Spock confirmed. “But I sensed little else.”

 

“Then we need to try again,” she insisted. 

 

Spock grabbed the bloody shirt from her. “Do you not see this?” he scolded her. “I do not know why this happened, but it is abnormal, and it is not safe. I will not be trying it again, and I implore you to not make any attempts yourself. You could very well cause worse damage than already exists.” He sighed as she began to cry again. He could not recall every seeing his mother so emotional, not even when Sarek lay dying from a heart condition on this very ship. 

 

“It’s because of me. I’m broken.”

 

“Mother,” he pulled her into his arms again. When she had quieted he led her to her bedroom, helped her remove the bloodied outer gown, then put her into bed. He sat beside her, softly brushing his fingers across her brow and down the bridge of her nose, like she used to do for him when he was little. When she seemed settled he left her to wait in the common area until she awoke again.

 

As soon as Spock left Amanda’s eyes snapped open. She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts turning inward. She found it again, that tiny flame within her mind, and she called to it, ignoring the pain that pulsed through her head. She absently brushed her hand against her nose, noticed the fresh blood smeared upon her skin, but ignored it. In her mind she pictured that flame, and reached for it, gripping it in her imaginary fist, and pulled with all her might.

 

Spock jumped from the couch, having never heard such an utterance of pain and despair in all his life. He ran into his mother’s room, not controlling his panic, and not caring. She was limp on her bed, her face and chest coated in more blood, and she was unconscious.

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek sat on a cold, hard bench, leaning his head back against an equally cold wall with his eyes closed. He wasn’t meditating, but since he was alone in a room devoid of anything but himself, there was nothing else to do. 

 

“Sarek!” He startled upon hearing his name and looked around frantically for the source until he realized he was still quite alone. “Sarek!” He gasped loudly. “Amanda,” he called to her, both physically and mentally. He felt panic begin to take hold on him, but he managed to push it back, needing to concentrate on his wife. He had felt her, of that he had no doubt, but how? She was in pain, and scared, and he jumped from his seat, fury flowing unchecked through him. They lied to him! They have her, they must. She needs him! Sarek closed his eyes and reached for her again, then relaxed. He could feel her surprise, then her joy when she recognized him. He was confused, her pain was palpable, but she was content. Then the bond went dark.

 

Sarek strode toward the door, tried to pry it open, then beat upon it with his fist. “I demand to speak with J’oh’ar!” he shouted through the solid door. “I demand answers!”

 

He cocked his head, hearing some unidentifiable sounds from beyond the door. There was a commotion of some kind, and it was coming closer. Sarek backed away from the door, preparing himself to fight. The door gave way, and in its center stood a form dressed in a Vulcan Defense uniform. The being reached up and removed his facemask. “Then it is answers you shall have, S’haile.”

 

Sarek relaxed his stance. “Soran,” he breathed in relief. The men gave each other apprising stares. “It is good you are alive.”

 

Soran tilted his head thoughtfully. “Likewise.”

 

~~**~~

 

McCoy glowered at Spock’s mother as she bounced on her heels in agitation. She had regained consciousness by the time he had arrived at her quarters, but except for a quick once over with the medi-scanner, refused any further treatment despite Spock and his insistence she go to sickbay. Then the call had come through that Sarek had been recovered, and she quickly rinsed herself clean and ran from the suite insisting on beaming down to meet him. Spock accompanied her so he could monitor her. Now they all waited in some cargo hold while the Vulcans finished taking care of whatever business they had with the Orions. The Ferengi ship was being examined by star base investigators for any evidence before it would be returned to its proper owners. Jim and Spock talked quietly amongst themselves, speculating on what the Vulcans would do with their prisoners once they returned home with them. They heard the whine of a transporter and waited as two Vulcan forms took shape. 

 

“I am anticipating hearing how you arrived at your deductions to apprehend the culprits,” Sarek was saying to his friend as they walked toward the Enterprise crew. “Your communications were sparse and somewhat…unrevealing.”

 

“Indeed. The revelation came rather unexpectedly, Sarek’am. Then…we were occupied with the pursuit.” He had left the severe-looking mask on the Vulcan ship, but still wore his Defense uniform. 

 

“Your timing was impeccable, as always, my friend.” He glanced sideways at Soran. “You work quickly.”

 

“Sarek!”

 

Sarek glanced back to see his wife run toward him. His son made an attempt to grab for her, to restrain her, but missed. He watched her come toward him, part of him recognizing she was not slowing her pace, but another part preoccupied with how the sparse skirt and vest, now unobscured by a covering, parted in the most provocative manner when she ran. As such, he wasn’t sufficiently prepared when she launched herself at him. 

 

He caught her, his hands resting under her bottom to support her, her legs and arms wrapped around him held her to him. She pressed her mouth to his, her tongue probing him, their bond flaring to life between them. 

 

“It would appear I am not the only one,” Soran commented as he removed his hands from having steadied Sarek, concerned they might both topple over and injure themselves. He looked away, attempting to give them privacy. 

 

“I was so worried,” she whispered, hugging him tightly. He made no response, but she could feel his emotion mirrored her own. She leaned back to look the other man. “You saved my husband?” she asked him.

 

Soran tipped his head in a shrug. He saw her stare, could see she was trying to place him. “Soran,” he supplied for her.

 

“Soran,” she murmured thoughtfully. She shook her head, looking at Sarek. “I remember an aide you had once, named Soran.”

 

Sarek nodded toward his companion. “Soran.”

 

“No,” she said firmly. “This guy was…studious and…um…pretty anal retentive.”

 

“Anal retentive,” Soran murmured indignantly.

 

Sarek’s eyes softened with amusement. He again nodded at his companion. “Soran,” he insisted.

 

Amanda looked him over carefully. “Really?”

 

Soran glared at her. “I prefer the terms orderly and precise.”

 

“Before agreeing to become my aide,” Sarek explained to her, “Soran was in the Vulcan Defense League. What better qualifications for an aide than one who is accomplished at investigation and is…orderly and precise…but also more than capable of defending me, if the need rose?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Amanda said to Soran, looking him over again. “You appear much different than I last remember.”

 

Soran made a point of not looking her over. “As do you,” he jested, forgiving her. 

 

Amanda gazed into her husband’s eyes. “Thank you for saving him, Soran.” She leaned in and kissed her husband passionately.

 

“You are most wel--“ Soran turned away. “Only once is forgivable, Sarek’am…”

 

Sarek broke their kiss and gently placed her back onto her feet. “We are being offensive,” he reminded her. He held his hand out, fingers paired. She grabbed his wrist and pulled it around her shoulders as she slid up and placed her arm around his waist to walk with him. Sarek looked at Soran helplessly. 

 

“You will have to retrain her,” Soran said tolerantly, walking beside them.

 

“Yes.” Sarek looked down at his wife. “Before we return to Vulcan.”

 

Soran sighed softly. “I am predicting an extended leave from Vulcan then.”

 

“Perhaps you should ask your bondmate to join you,” Sarek agreed.

 

~~**~~

 

Sarek followed his wife into their quarters, having just come from a celebratory dinner with Spock and the Enterprise officers.

 

“An exciting day,” Amanda commented. “I’m utterly exhausted,” she laughed.

 

“Indeed,” Sarek agreed. “I am eagerly awaiting my bed.”

 

Amanda eyed him suspiciously. “To sleep…”

 

“To sleep,” he confirmed.

 

She grinned. “On that note, good night, Sarek.”

 

He grabbed her hand as she went to walk toward her room. He pulled her back to him and kiss her gently. “You will sleep in my bed from now on.”

 

She glared at him sternly. “If that was supposed to be a question, you need to either reverse your verb and pronoun, or at least provide the appropriate inflection at the end, Ambassador.”

 

Sarek pretended to consider this, then scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his room, ignoring her sounds of mock outrage. He deposited her on the bed and lay with her, holding her. After some time he stirred to reach across her to remove something from her nightstand drawer. 

 

“What’s that?” she asked, the item ensconced in his hand too small for her to see.

 

“It is yours.” He lay on his back next to her and lifted her left hand, then slipped her ring upon her finger. “Do not misplace it again,” he gently scolded her. Through their touch, he allowed the bond to express all the things he could not say.

 

She looked from their hands to his face, the dichotomy of his external and internal expressions still amazed her. She rolled over to lie upon him, and looked down into his eyes. “Husband,” she whispered.

 

THE END


End file.
